


The Quickest Way To A Man's Heart Is Through His Chest

by AuditoryCheesecake, uniqueinalltheworld



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Ballet AU, D/s elements, Dril Quotes, Felix the Avatar of Righteous Rage, From Sex to Love, Light Bondage, M/M, MMA AU, Mild Coffee Shop Elements, Miscommunication, Modern AU, Porn With Plot, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 12:09:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7102726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuditoryCheesecake/pseuds/AuditoryCheesecake, https://archiveofourown.org/users/uniqueinalltheworld/pseuds/uniqueinalltheworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A former dancer ("retired") and a former MMA champion (disgraced) connect by accident in Ferelden, and... keep connecting. Not that it means anything, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shut The Fuck Up And Kick My Ass

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to our dance friend Lindsay, without whom this story would have been much less accurate.
> 
> Not at all dedicated to Dril, who is actually a dillweed, and we are taking his tweets because fuck him ^_^

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I just looked up the stats and the number of meaningful relationships I’ve formed is less than the number of public restrooms I’ve Screamed in.”

Bull loved teaching the kids, he really did, but sometimes, they were complete terrors.

“Anise, you _know_ how to do a pliė, you can show Kasaanda instead of climbing on the barre while I’m trying to teach everyone else.”

“Nope,” said Anise. It was his favorite word. Not so much Bull’s. 

“Yes, please.” Bull tried to model good manners for his students. Tried. 

“Nope,” said Anise again. 

“Okay,” Bull gave an exaggerated shrug. “I guess Kasaanda and I will just have fun dancing without you then.” 

“No!” Anise howled, and performed a deep and perfectly-executed pliė. He scowled up at Bull and did it again. 

Bull figured it was probably unprofessional to smirk at outwitting a kid, but five-year-olds didn’t know words like “smirk” or “manipulation.”

Kasaanda dipped down, then wobbled and fell back. Bull bent down and put a hand on her back to support her when she tried again. “You’re doing great, Sandy.”

“I fell down,” she insisted. “I’m not s’posed to fall down.” She looked like she was on the verge of tears. 

“Not when you’re performing. That’s why we get all our falling down out of the way in practice. See?” Bull fell back onto his own ass. It hurt like a sonofabitch, but Kasaanda giggled, so he figured it was worth it. 

The other kids had crowded around them, giggling. “Mr. The Iron Bull,” said Dirthara. 

“What?” he asked, looking up at the five-year-old elf from the floor. 

“I can see your butt,” she said, and the class laughed uproariously. They were about to devolve into that special brand of anarchy that only children could manage, and nothing more would happen for the last half-hour of the class if Bull couldn’t get them back on track. 

Of course, that was when the studio’s obnoxious next-door neighbors turned on their ridiculously loud and explicit neo-feminist punk. “Alright, kids! We’re going to have a free dance period now!” The kids cheered while Bull turned up his own studio’s more kid-friendly instrumental music louder than necessary. He, personally, didn’t like an orchestral version of “The Itsy Bitsy Spider” more than “Sexista Punk,” but he was teaching a kids’ ballet class.

Anise and Kassanda kept practicing their pliės for almost a minute before the entire class was basically jumping up and down for the rest of the time he’d been hoping to actually teach them.

 

When he’d sent the last kid on their way, Bull decided it was finally time to confront the neighbors. He’d been putting it off for a while now, but he didn’t need an angry parent blaming him for their daughter learning the phrase “fuck your capitalist macho-bullishit” or something.

Bull and his neighbors were, as far as he could tell, a match made in some sort of irony heaven. His own little ballet studio, owned and operated as it was by a seven foot tall Qunari man, sat next to a dojo run by a team of two women, one an elf and the other human. 

He’d talked to Sera on occasion, and guessed that any angry feminist punk had to be coming from her classes. The other woman, whom he’d seen only in passing, didn’t strike him as the type. Thus, it was Sera, possibly teaching some sort of aerobics class, that he’d expected when he walked in the door.

The dojo, “Ballbusters,” was brightly lit from inside, and a bell over the door chimed when he opened it. There wasn’t anyone at the front desk, and when Bull took a few hesitant steps towards the main sparring area, he saw why. 

Everyone, absolutely everyone, had their eyes locked on what was apparently an exhibition match in the center of the floor. The second owner of the dojo, Cassandra something, Bull remembered, was sparring a man he’d never seen before. Both had dark hair, dark eyes, and tight, sleeveless shirts. Bull felt a little nervous about objectifying anyone with music explaining the exact consequences of such actions playing in the background, but the man’s tattooed biceps alone were enough to make him swoon. Even with mats down and padded foam gloves on, the fight looked brutal. Bull didn’t know much about karate, or muay thai, or whatever this was, but it was clear they were both experts. There were a lot of speedy punches, and sharp kicks at shoulders and ribs. They circled quickly, their feet never staying planted for more than a second, but neither took a single step backwards that didn’t quickly become another assault.

Cassandra jabbed at the man from a boxer’s stance, feet set wide, bouncing a bit on her toes, but he deflected the heavy-looking punch with the barest flick of an upturned hand. Pain flickered across Cassandra’s face and she swung a foot out in retaliation. The man clearly hadn’t been expecting her to kick at him when they were positioned so close, and her knee caught him directly in the gut. He stumbled back a few paces and they both circled, catching their breath. Cassandra changed her stance, protecting the arm that had been deflected moments ago. The man noticed the same way Bull did, and came after her with a series of kicks, moving across the floor on one leg. Bull had been trained to do something similar in ballet, but he had never seen the like in any other sport. Cassandra blocked each kick as it came, but she was losing ground. Finally, she let loose a growl and grabbed her opponent’s leg as he kicked, twisting hard. He went down flat, flipped almost entirely by Cassandra’s grab. Bull thought that would be the end of it, until the man’s arm shot up from the floor, taking Cassandra out at the knees. She fell as well, and they both spent a moment laughing as they untangled their limbs. 

“I didn’t hurt your arm there, did I?” Fuck, he had a nice voice. Lightly accented and aristocratic. 

Cassandra shook her head. “Just hit a nerve. I will be fine by the morning.” 

“Good, good. I once saw a man break his arm that way, and ever since I’ve been extremely cautious.” Bull couldn’t take his eyes off of him. The man stood up with a fluid motion, and offered a hand to Cassandra. “Will you show me that grab again?” He asked, pushing his hair out of his face. Bull wanted to run his hands over the shaved sides.

“Maybe tomorrow.” Cassandra accepted a water bottle from a woman in a purple tank top. Bull noticed belatedly that everyone else in the room was a woman, mostly dwarves and elves. He recognized Sera, and the dwarf next her was vaguely familiar, but he felt a bit out of place.

“We’ve gotten a bit sidetracked,” Cassandra told the group. “No assailant is likely to come at you with kicks like Dorian’s, but if you can get below your attacker’s center of gravity, it’s relatively easy to throw them off balance.”

The man, Dorian, nodded, and was the first one in the room to notice Bull. His gaze traveled up Bull’s legs, lingering on his waist, chest, and shoulders before finally meeting his eyes. Bull didn’t usually feel exposed in tights, shorts, and a leotard, but he was pretty sure that somehow, at this very moment, Dorian was seeing him naked. He only wished he could return the favor. 

“Now, ladies, if your assailant is much _larger_ than you are, you’ll have to use slightly different techniques. Sir, if you’d please join the class, I require your aid in a demonstration.” Everyone turned to stare at Bull. There was a lot of whispering.

Bull cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. He dealt with groups of women all the time. He was a professional dancer, after all. This was no different than rehearsing with Ma’am’s troupe. He dropped his gym bag and went to stand in the center of the mats next to Dorian. This was fine. 

“And what’s your name, sir?” 

Sir, again. Bull nearly choked on his own tongue. “The Iron, uh, The Iron Bull,”

He could hear Sera snickering.

“Good.” Said Dorian, and turned to his class. “Now ladies, the Iron Bull is going to come at me from behind with a reverse chokehold, and I’ll show you how to put him flat on his back.” The whispering turned into giggles.

Bull squared up behind Dorian then whispered into his ear. “I uh, have no idea what reverse chokehold means.” 

Dorian sighed, and probably rolled his eyes. “The reverse chokehold, or rear naked choke,” Bull almost swallowed his tongue, “is one of the most common moves in MMA, and can be effective at immobilizing a target from behind.” He reached behind him and took Bull’s hands, arranging him so that Bull’s right arm was wrapped around Dorian’s throat, fingers locked around his own left bicep. He was pressed very closely against Dorian’s back. “As you can see, not an advantageous position to be caught in unawares. But, if you grab your assailant's arm and bend forward, low, like you’re doing a somersault, you can essentially flip them over you.” His hands gripped Bull’s forearm with impressive strength, and Bull was suddenly no longer standing on his own feet.

He came down heavy, flat on his back, as promised. He felt Dorian roll lightly away, but he stayed down, trying to get his breath back.

“Fuck me,” he wheezed. There was some definite tittering.

Dorian extended a gracious hand to help him up again and Bull took it gladly. “Perhaps after class,” a breath of air so quiet Bull might have imagined it as he was being pulled up. 

Dorian showed his class two more ways to throw an attacker, and Bull got the wind knocked out of him four more times, but he didn’t give a single fuck.

The class broke up at the end of the hour, the women filing into the locker room at the end of the hall. There was a lot of laughter and sidelong glances at Bull, but he was alone with Dorian when the door swung closed behind Sera. Her music was still playing in the main room. It seemed a lot louder now.

“There are showers,” Dorian said, “If you’d like to change out of that hideous outfit of yours.”

“I didn’t bring another one,” Bull all but stammered.

“Perfect.” Dorian left without a backwards glance. Bull followed him.

Dorian was stripping off his gloves when Bull pushed open the locker room door, and looked over his shoulder with a smirk. Without the confusing addition of the self-defense class, Bull had regained his footing. 

“You know the class you walked in on is normally an all-women's self defense course?” Dorian kept his back to Bull, a deliberate taunt.

“You know ‘Sexista Punk’ isn’t great listening for five year old ballet students?” Bull leaned against the wall, admiring the view. 

“I hope you didn’t come over simply to ask me to be quiet. As it happens, I’m not really the type.” 

“I’ll bet.” Bull muttered.

“You may not be, either, by the time I’m through with you.”

“That so?” He crossed the room quickly, crowding Dorian up against the lockers.

Dorian twisted around to face him, sliding his hands up Bull’s arms with a sharp grin. “My, aren’t we eager?” 

“Who knew that having your ass kicked was such great foreplay?”

Dorian snorted and pulled at one of the straps of Bull’s leotard. “Who knew I’d fuck a man wearing pink spandex?”

“I was thinking I’d take it off, actually.” Bull’s hands were planted on either side of Dorian’s head, and he might have been looming a little. 

Dorian gave him a crooked smile. “Do go on, then.” He pushed his hips teasingly against Bull’s.

“You first,” Bull pulled Dorian’s shirt up and over his head, catching his wrists and wrapping the thin fabric around his forearms. 

Dorian raised an eyebrow at him. “You understand, of course, what I do for a living.” He flexed his arms under Bull’s hands. “I could just rip the shirt and drop you on your ass again.”

“You could try.” Bull growled, twisting the shirt tighter so that Dorian’s arms strained backward. He arched against Bull with a grunt, and he struggled under Bull’s hold. “I wasn’t really trying before, though, was I?”

Bull leaned down and bit at Dorian’s shoulder, startling another noise from deep in his throat, and Dorian stilled for half a breath. That should have been Bull’s warning. 

Instead, Bull loosened his grip on Dorian’s shirt, and Dorian used the momentary lapse to his advantage. The shirt did, indeed, rip with a noise like paper tearing and Dorian’s hands were suddenly gripping Bull’s shoulders. Hard. 

Bull stared at Dorian, and he might have forgotten to breathe for a minute. “Oh fuck yeah.” Dorian looked fiercely pleased, and dug his nails roughly into the back of Bull’s neck. “That is so hot.” Bull was pulled down into a biting kiss, the muscles in his neck straining even as Dorian’s mouth ground sharp against his.

Dorian pulled harder on Bull’s head, one hand wrapping around the base of a horn, and they were not kissing so much as they were fucking with their mouths. Bull’s horns knocked against the lockers with a hollow clang. He bent over Dorian, trying to pull their bodies closer together. It wasn’t nearly enough.

With a noise of frustration, Dorian lifted himself up, clamping his legs around Bull’s hips. Bull grabbed under his ass and pushed him up against the lockers. He sucked in a breath at the press of the cold metal on his skin, and Bull dropped his head to bite at Dorian’s neck.

Dorian’s hips moved in a harsh rhythm against Bull’s, and his head tilted back against the lockers. Bull panted into the crook of his neck, Dorian’s hand on his horn, holding his head in place. He could feel Dorian’s fingers flexing against the muscles of his back, under the fabric of his leotard, could taste the sweat that lingered on his body.

“Now,” Dorian’s breath felt ragged where it touched Bull’s face, and that much was gratifying. “Let’s try this again. Take off your clothes.” 

Fuck, the leotard. He’d have to let go of Dorian to get it off, and he really, _really_ didn’t want to do that. Bull put his teeth on Dorian’s shoulder.

“Iron Bull,” Dorian’s voice was steel. “Put me down and take off your fucking clothes.”

“Yes, Sir.” Bull wished he could say his response was anything but automatic. As he struggled out of his clothes, doing what might be the least sexy strip tease of all time, he reflected both that he had rather entirely lost control of the situation, and that he minded that fact a lot less than he had anticipated. He finished, standing naked and hard in the middle of an unfamiliar locker room.

Dorian circled him, predatory, tracing a finger across Bull’s hipbone. It set his nerves on edge, like a trail of static on his skin. He stopped in front of Bull, hand flat against his stomach, just above Bull’s cock. He looked Bull up and down, deemed him satisfactory. 

Dorian, Bull noticed, was still wearing his athletic pants. 

He put his hands tentatively on Dorian’s hips, sliding them onto his ass and stepping closer again. Dorian’s bare skin was warm against his chest, and Bull thought he could see the beginnings of a bruise between the thick lines of his tattoos.

Dorian’s hand slid lower on Bull’s stomach, fingers curling around the very base of Bull’s cock. Bull couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran through his body at the touch, and Dorian grinned, showing his teeth.

His grip was firm, and Bull could feel every one of the callouses on his palm. He slipped a finger under the waistband of Dorian’s athletic pants, looking to regain a bit of the power he was accustomed to feeling. He didn’t find it-- Dorian was wearing a jockstrap and nothing else under his pants. His hands slipped along smooth skin instead of any fabric under the elastic band, and he couldn’t resist squeezing.

Dorian’s hips rolled back into Bull’s hands, and he made an appreciative noise. He dragged his hand up Bull’s cock, grip almost painful, and Bull staggered forward against him. Dorian didn’t move, just tightened his hold of Bull’s side, his breath hitting Bull’s chest with an amused huff. Bull brought one hand to the back of Dorian’s neck, and kissed him deeply. He groaned into Dorian’s mouth when his hand moved again, and Dorian pulled away, sucking hard on Bull’s lower lip.

Bull opened his eye, suddenly desperate to see Dorian’s face, and found him looking flushed but nowhere near as overwhelmed as Bull was starting to feel. Dorian glanced around the room. “Sit down,” he said suddenly, and pushed Bull backwards towards the bench that ran between the rows of lockers. “I’m getting a crick in my neck.”

Bull sat at the end of the bench, Dorian looming over him. He slid his hands back beneath the waistband of Dorian’s pants, looking up at his face for confirmation. Dorian gave the barest of nods and Bull hooked his thumbs around the bands, brought them down the swell of Dorian’s ass, let them fall. Dorian stepped out, closer, over. 

He left his arms draped over Bull’s shoulders and settled himself firmly on Bull’s thighs, feet not touching the ground. He grabbed Bull’s horn again, pulling his head to the side and nipping, not lightly, up Bull’s neck. Bull groaned loudly as Dorian’s teeth pulled at his ear, and Dorian paused.

“Sensitive?” He sounded delighted. Bull nodded, fingers curling against Dorian’s thighs. Dorian ground down against him, and Bull pulled him closer to his chest. Dorian’s skin pressed against him like a brand, scorching. “You’re not nearly as intimidating as you think you are.” He dropped a hand between their bodies, his touch achingly light. 

Bull groaned and tried to find his voice. “‘Course I am,” he gasped as Dorian’s fingers barely circled him.

Dorian laughed. “But you come apart so easy. Big, scary qunari, until I put you on the ground and step on you. Then you’re ever so obliging. Is it because you know I’m more than a match for you?” His fingers tightened on Bull’s cock, making his hips buck. He breathed on the shell of Bull’s ear, teeth closing around the pointed tip. “I’m sure you’re used to being in charge, but… that’s not how this is going to go.”

Bull’s hands were clutching at the muscles of Dorian’s back, barely able to do more than hold on. Dorian’s hand on his horn tugged again, tipping his head back roughly. He stared at Dorian, chest heaving, and Dorian looked back. “You’re going to do exactly what I tell you, the Iron Bull, and I’m going to take exactly what I want.” The hand on Bull’s cock moved slowly and firmly, and he felt like he was burning up under Dorian’s focused attention. 

Dorian leaned closer to him again, sucking a bruise into the hollow of Bull’s neck. “What I want now is for you to agree to that.” He pulled Bull’s head forward to meet his eyes. Bull blinked at him, tried to quantify Dorian’s expression. “Those are the terms. You do what I say, and I use you as I wish. Acceptable?”

Dorian took his hands off Bull, resting them on his own thighs. Bull wanted them back, desperately. He took a deep breath and tried to center himself. He wanted that. He wanted Dorian, however he could get him. He let loose a strangled sound of assent.

Dorian’s eyes narrowed. “Say it.” His body was tense, and he didn’t move. He sat on Bull’s legs like they were a throne, and raised his chin, commanding. “Tell me you want me, the Iron Bull.”

“Please.” Bull gasped. Dorian’s smile was brilliant.

“Put your hands on my thighs.” Bull obeyed immediately. Dorian slipped both of his hands across Bull’s hips and gripped Bull’s cock, and Bull might have whimpered at the touch. “If you move them, I stop.” He kissed Bull again, finally, and Bull hoped he didn’t mind having bruises on his legs after this.

Dorian’s kisses were all teeth. He kept one hand on Bull’s cock, and brought the other up to hold the back of Bull’s head. It wasn’t anything like gentle, but Bull felt himself melting under the touch. Bull slid his hands under Dorian’s thighs, pulling him closer.

Dorian froze, and grabbed Bull’s wrists in a bruising hold, glaring down at him imperiously. “Do not _lift_ me,” he growled.

Bull relaxed his fingers. Dorian kept glaring until Bull moved his hands away altogether, holding them out in surrender. Bull held his gaze until Dorian’s expression softened. “You’re in charge,” Bull said, and Dorian rearranged his face into a superior smirk.

“Of course I am.” It was a little too quiet to have been directed at Bull.

He slid off Bull’s thighs and stood over him, trailing his hand up the length of Bull’s naked body. Bull wanted him back on his lap, warm and close, where he could hold onto the taste and smell of him, but he kept his hands still. Dorian touched him lightly, and Bull concentrated on the warm points of his fingers and palm. He scraped his nails over Bull’s chest, pinching roughly at his nipple. Bull gasped and grabbed at the bench under him instead of Dorian’s hands or hips.

“Oh,” Bull might have imagined the catch in Dorian’s voice. “I do like that. No touching.” Bull nodded, throat tight.

Dorian took hold of his horns again and leaned down to kiss him. His mouth curved in a triumphant smile, sucking fiercely at Bull’s lips and tongue. Bull tightened his hands on the wood of the bench and pushed his mouth up against Dorian’s, trying to please him.

Dorian straightened, and looked down at him consideringly. 

Dorian set his hand solidly on Bull’s shoulder, then shoved Bull flat on the bench. He followed Bull’s descent, kissing forcefully. “Sit on my face,” Bull entreated, when he let up long enough for them to catch their breath. 

Dorian quirked an eyebrow. “If you insist.” 

“I want to fuck you with my mouth.” 

Dorian’s eyebrows climbed higher. “Rather inelegant, but I suppose I should have expected that.”

“I don’t have to be elegant to have a clever tongue.”

Dorian gave an amused huff and did as he was asked, settling over Bull’s mouth and allowing Bull’s hands to wrap around his thighs. He was careful, surprisingly so, to leave Bull room to breathe through his nose.

Bull began slowly, stroking Dorian’s legs until he relaxed. He worked his tongue across the sensitive skin behind his balls, and finally coaxed a moan out of Dorian when he licked into him. Dorian shuddered, hands dropping onto Bull’s chest. 

Bull worked him open with fingers and tongue, pressing up into him. Dorian’s hands scraped restlessly across Bull’s skin, and Bull closed his eye to focus on the small noises that slipped from Dorian’s mouth. He kneaded his fingers into the muscle of Dorian’s ass, holding it open above him and buried himself in the soft, musky taste of him. 

“Stop,” Dorian said, and it almost sounded like a question. Bull stopped, pulling his head as far back as the small bench would allow him to. 

Dorian lifted himself and turned to see Bull’s face. “I’ll be fucking myself on you, is that quite all right?” 

“Shit, yeah,” Bull breathed. “Uh, do you have any--” 

For a split second, Dorian looked oddly touched. “Of course.” He climbed off and rummaged in his gym bag, producing a condom. Bull normally kept his own supply with him, but he didn’t want to risk one of his kids snooping through his bag and finding one. Bull leaned up from the bench and reached for the condom only to have his hands slapped away. Instead, Dorian smirked and unwrapped the condom himself, balancing it on his thumbs and then placing it on his own tongue. He then bent and did... something that slid the condom onto Bull’s erection, sealed his lips and rolled it down, gagging slightly as he went. Dorian righted himself and wiped his mouth off, throwing the man beneath him a smirk. 

Bull gaped at him. Dorian beamed and positioned himself above Bull’s cock. Bull inhaled at the sudden pressure when Dorian slid home. He rolled his hips against Bull’s, and Bull did his best to hang on. 

Bull admired the line of Dorian’s neck as he tipped his head back. Dorian gripped Bull’s hips and sighed when Bull tightened his fingers on his legs. He was a vision even in the flat fluorescent light, his head tilted back and back arched. 

Bull began to thrust, then thought better of it, lying as still as he could manage on the narrow bench, feet planted on the floor. He let Dorian set the pace. Dorian moved over him, breath coming in harsh pants. His movements were quick, his pace harder than Bull would have set.

Bull watched him, his own heart hammering. Dorian’s eyes were shut tight, his hands grasping and his mouth open. His muscles were tense under Bull’s hands, and he shuddered every time he sank against Bull’s hips.

Bull could barely find his voice. He wanted to-- well, it didn’t matter what he wanted. He was getting plenty now. 

Dorian’s head was bowed low, obscuring his expression. Bull could feel himself getting close, could scarcely breathe with the mounting heat of it. He reached up towards Dorian’s dick. “Let me take care of that,” he said.

His hand was pushed away. “I don’t need you to take care of me,” Dorian snarled, and took himself in hand.

It was over for both of them in a few short strokes. Bull came with a rough groan and Dorian followed a few moments after, spilling onto Bull’s stomach and then collapsing into his chest. Bull gingerly put his arms around him, hoping that Dorian would, at the very least, allow this. 

He didn’t. At least, not for longer than it took him to get his breath back. Bull was still floating a little when Dorian pushed himself back up. He clambered off Bull, legs shaky.

Bull put a hand against his hip to steady him, and was rewarded with a momentary brush of fingers against his wrist. 

Dorian opened a locker and tossed a towel over his shoulder to Bull, though he didn’t turn to look at him. He pulled a pair of jeans on in the time it took Bull to sit up on the bench, and slipped a shirt over his head while Bull wiped at the mess on his stomach and pulled his shorts on, not bothering with the tights or leotard for the short walk to his car.

Bull was the one who broke the silence. “Can I--” His voice echoed weirdly in the empty locker room. “May I get your number?” 

Dorian froze with his back still towards the benches. He turned, a slight quirk of the lips the closest thing Bull would get to a smile. “Of course.” He held out his hand. “I’ll put it in your phone.”

Bull had to dig through his bag, nearly spilling spare tights all over the locker room floor, but he did eventually find it. Dorian watched him with guarded amusement, and entered his number under the name “Call for a good time.”

* * *

Dorian slammed the door open, making Felix jump and spill tea across his books. He flopped dramatically onto the couch, sending Felix’s careful stacks of graded papers everywhere.

“I think I’m in love with him,” he told the ceiling.

Felix sighed.


	2. some times.. i need my coffee fix so bad.. i gotta grab TWO mugs!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have taken my shirt off over 10000 times”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 was straight up smut... Chapter 2 has a bit of plot, if you're into that sort of thing.

Felix glanced up from the heap of tests he had yet to grade. “What did he do this time? Carry a sleeping child to their parent’s car? Haul in a heavy punching bag? Actually notice you spying on him?” 

Dorian sat up to glower at him. “ _Actually,_ I had a minor religious experience sitting on his dick in the Ballbusters’ locker room.”

Felix sighed again. “Did your vision of pious ecstasy include his actual name? Or is he just going to stay Sexy Ballet Teacher?” 

“I acquired both his name _and_ his phone number, thank you.” Dorian’s heels kicked against the arm of the couch. “The Iron Bull.”

Felix could not quite control the rise of his eyebrows. “Is that his real name, or do you just not want me to stalk him on social media?”

“It’s a real name,” Dorian sounded defensive. “He teaches _ballet,_ Felix. To _children_. He wouldn’t lie about his name.”

“Ballet teachers aren’t some type of infaillible being. They can be just as scummy as florists or baristas.”

Dorian sniffed indignantly. He hated being reminded of exes. “You don’t understand art.”

“I can appreciate hard work and technical precision. I just don’t like sitting in a dark room for three hours while people in awful tights roll around on the floor.” Their last excursion to the theatre had been a bit too experimental for Felix’s taste. Then again, most things were. He liked his proofs already proven. 

“I believe I could develop an interest.” Dorian muttered.

“So you’re going to see him again?” Felix kept his eyes on his papers. 

Dorian tensed. “Well, most likely. He asked for my number, after all.”

“That’s good.” The silence had gone on for too long, and Felix felt Dorian go sour and sharp. 

“You don’t think he’ll call.” 

“I never said that.” Felix put the tests down, careful to keep his students’ calculus out of range of Dorian’s ire. 

“But you don’t deny that’s what you think.” 

“I think that last time a man got your hopes up, he didn’t call and you broke your hand on a training mannequin.”

The door burst open again and Sera belly-flopped onto the couch, elbows landing in Dorian’s gut by the sound of it. “Tell. Me. Everything.” She growled. 

“Booze first,” Dorian answered. Felix resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn’t be getting much more work done, even if he didn’t actually get drunk with his roommates at eight o’clock on a Tuesday.

Sera launched herself towards the liquor cabinet in the kitchen, and Dorian turned to Felix with a look that made his chest ache. “I think it’s different this time, Felix.” his voice was soft. Hopeful, even. “I just do.”

* * *

“I know I wrote call for a good time,” the voice on the other end of the line drawled, “but it’s really more of a classic idiom than a literal instruction. I assumed you would just text me.”

“I wanted to hear your voice,” Bull said sheepishly.

There was a staticy laugh from his phone. “I suppose you’d like me to say I wished to hear yours as well.” 

“I’d like to see if you’re free on Friday.” 

“For excellent sex? Always.” 

Bull grinned. “Great. I have rehearsal with ma’am until six or so but after seven I could meet you. I’ll even wear real clothes this time.”

“If you must,” Dorian said. “But I get the impression you’ll spend more time with them off than on.”

“I’m a professional dancer,” Bull said, “I can do quick changes in seconds.”

“Hopefully it will last a little longer than that.” 

Bull was normally a lot smoother than this. “I meant the clothes. I can get my clothes off fast. They can stay off as long as you need.” 

Another laugh. “Promises, promises. I’ll see you Friday.” A click. 

“If you’re quite finished?” Ma’am looked at him. She had an astonishing knack for looking down her nose at Bull, even while craning her neck up to see him. 

“Yes ma’am.” He tucked the phone into his bag and followed her to the floor. “Now let’s get married.” 

“I appreciate the enthusiasm, darling, but perhaps we warm up so as not pull a ligament first?” 

If it had been anyone else, Bull would have groaned a little. Vivienne was sitting cross legged on floor, which meant she wanted to do the “contraction release spiral” warmup. He hated the spiral. He hadn’t always, just until Vivienne showed him how wrong he’d been doing it before. Now, it was the most intense core workout he did on a regular basis.

He sat down across from her, mirroring the positions of her arms and legs. She started with her left arm, rotating it in controlled, graceful movements. Bull followed.

“So this boy you’re seeing on Friday,” she began, and Bull really hoped she hadn’t overheard the _entire_ conversation.

“Yeah, he’s pretty great.” Vivienne didn’t want details, not really. He raised his left hand over his head in a slight curve, the right stretched down to the floor.

“Is he new?” She switched arms, back straight, core tight. 

Bull frowned. “I mean, he’s a person, not a shirt or something.”

She raised an eyebrow.

Bull sighed. “Yes, he’s new.”

“Do I get to know his name?”

Breathe in, keep your core tight. “Dorian.” Breathe out, arms twisting.

“That’s Tevene, isn’t it?”

“Think so.”

Vivienne was very good at being judgemental without ever saying a word. “Is that wise?” Adding words to her expression simply made it scathing. “They’re not known for being very open-minded.”

“Well--”

Vivienne sighed. “I know you, darling. You’re already planning a romantic weekend on the Storm Coast if you’re talking to him where I can hear you.” She bent forward at the waist in a deep stretch and Bull followed, holding the pose until his back was aching. “You’ll forgive me for feeling a bit protective of you.”

“Of course, Ma’am.” Bull focused on touching his forehead to the floor like she was doing. “But I wouldn’t go that far. It’s just a bit of fun. I mean, he can probably kick me in the face, am I supposed to _not_ sleep with him?”

She chuckled. “And what, exactly, does this dashing paramor of yours do for a living?”

“Kicks people in the face, obviously.” He twisted to the side. Arms bent, core tight. “He works at the martial arts studio next door to me. Seems pretty good at his job.”

“Riveting.” Vivienne shook out her hands and rose to her feet in a smooth motion that Bull didn’t think he’d ever be able to copy. “No wonder you’re enamoured.”

He accepted the hand she held out to him. “Like I said, it’s pretty casual.”

He crossed the room to turn on the music, ignoring her murmured, “if you say so, dear.”

* * *

Bull pulled up in front of his studio and checked his reflection in the rearview mirror. He’d changed out of his rehearsal clothes into a button-up and jeans dark enough to be almost fancy. He felt a little overdressed, but he had an idea that he and Dorian could get dinner, and Dorian seemed like he would probably choose somewhere on the nicer side.

Ballbusters looked empty, but the lights were on, so Bull went right in. Dorian’s head popped out of a door down the hall and he waved Bull over. “You’re earlier than I expected.” He said, but he didn’t sound annoyed, just held the door open for Bull, and closed it behind him. He made no move out of Bull’s personal space.

Bull saw the room was an office, small, compact, with certificates on the walls and trophies on the shelves before Dorian’s hands were sliding up his arms. “Wouldn’t wanna be late for this,” he murmured, holding still as Dorian made a considering sound.

“You really did wear actual clothing.” Dorian seemed amused. “In a manner of speaking. Where on earth did you find a shirt this offensively azure?”

Bull pulled Dorian against him. “It’s blue.” Dorian’s hands slid off his biceps and down his chest.

“It’s really not. Get rid of it.” He started unbuckling Bull’s belt. 

Bull laughed. “You’re eager.” He leaned down to kiss Dorian, his lips skidding across the side of his jaw when Dorian turned his head. 

“Rushed, more like.” Dorian finished with Bull’s belt and started on his shirt. “Sera’s never specifically offered me the use of her office for this sort of thing.”

Bull looked around the room again. “Then why are we in here?”

Dorian pulled Bull’s shirt down his arms. “Because I’m doing her paperwork for her. And it’s not like she never uses it for anything else, it’s the least she can do in return.” He bit at Bull’s neck. “Now focus, if you please.”

Bull did his best to obey. It was easy to let Dorian push him back until he hit the door, and tug at Dorian’s shirt in return. It was hard to keep his attention on anything except the wicked spark in Dorian’s eyes as he slipped a firm hand down the front of Bull’s jeans, fingers teasing his cock through the fabric of his boxers. Dorian’s teeth pressed into his lower lip, drawing Bull’s eye down to stare at his mouth.

Dorian’s strong fingers slipped under his balls, trailed over his cock, not really stroking, until he was hard and panting, his own hands grasping uselessly at Dorian’s side. He tried to pull Dorian closer, but his hand curled around Bull’s cock at last. Bull groaned and dropped his head back against the door.

“Quiet, now.” Dorian admonished him. “We wouldn’t want anyone to come investigate, would we?”

“So that’s the game we’re playing?” Bull smirked down at him.

Dorian’s eyebrows rose teasingly. “Game? Oh, no.” He pressed closer to Bull, finally, rising onto his toes and steadying himself with a hand splayed on Bull’s chest. He leaned tantalizingly close to Bull’s lips. “I’m entirely serious. Why, Cassandra would probably try to rip my arms off if she thought I was… misusing the premises.”

“I bet you could take her.” Bull couldn’t take his eyes off Dorian’s mouth, couldn’t think about anything about all the places he was touching Dorian, skin to skin, fever-hot.

Dorian chuckled. “I do appreciate the vote of confidence.” His breath hit the base of Bull’s throat. “But it’s best not to press our luck.” He glanced around the room and Bull used the moment to pull himself together.

“We don’t have to do this right now.” He offered. “We could go--”

Dorian’s hands stilled entirely and he looked sharply at Bull. “You’re the one who came here.”

“I don’t want to get you into trouble with your boss or something. That would kinda kill the mood.”

“Oh,” Dorian’s expression lightened into an almost-smile. “It’s fine, really. No one’s _actually_ here. Don’t worry so much, Bull.” He tugged at Bull’s belt again, one hand firm in the center of Bull’s chest. “Well,” he demanded, “Pick me up.”

“You want me to?” Bull hazarded. 

“I was under the impression that all those ballet muscles were good for _something_ besides standing around and stuffing into tights.”

Bull slid his hands down the backs of Dorian’s thighs and lifted him, letting him wrap his legs around Bull’s waist. “Not much for small talk, then, huh?” Bull tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

“Not when there’s much better things for your mouth to be doing.”

Bull didn’t have any trouble supporting Dorian’s weight, but he walked them across the room and set Dorian down on the desk. It was surprisingly solid, considering that the desk chair looked like it had been bought at Ikea and assembled with duct tape and militant optimism.

Dorian kept his legs tight around Bull’s waist, pulling him into a filthy kiss. Bull leaned over him, one hand on the desk and one on Dorian’s back, holding him close. Dorian kissed demandingly, mouth pressed hard enough to let Bull feel his teeth. 

Bull pushed back against him, and Dorian raked his nails across Bull’s clothed back. Bull responded with a soft grunt and Dorian slid his hands down to finally finish undoing Bull’s zipper. Bull broke off long enough to pull a condom out of his pocket. He didn’t like to brag, but using Dorian’s condom had been something of a tight fit. 

“The lube’s probably behind the cactus,” Dorian told him, as though that were a totally normal place from which to steal your coworker’s lubricant. 

Bull shuffled over awkwardly in his half-down pants and bent to retrieve the bottle that was indeed shoved behind a potted cactus. “Honey flavored?”

Dorian shrugged. He’d found a way to drape himself alluringly on the desk by the time he got back, kicking his shorts onto the floor with a grin. Not that Bull needed much encouragement. He’d do a lot of things to get Dorian smile at him like that again.

Dorian leaned back on his elbows as Bull stroked one hand up the inside of his thigh, eyes partially closed. “Do get on with it,” he said, but it was teasing, and didn’t have quite the same impatient note as before. Bull took the opportunity to look at Dorian, who didn’t seem to mind being looked at in the least.

He tipped his head back invitingly, and Bull leaned over him again, touching his lips to Dorian’s neck. His pulse jumped when Bull pressed, very gently, with his teeth. He tasted like sweat.

“Touch me,” Dorian commanded. His voice was steady.

Bull did. He touched Dorian’s hip softly, a little teasingly. He watched Dorian’s muscles shift under his skin as he levered himself up, closer to Bull.

“Oh please,” he looked up in time to see Dorian roll his eyes, “are you trying to be aggravating? Surely the Iron Bull can do better than that?”

“Is that a challenge?” He liked the way Dorian’s breath sped up even while his lips curled into a wicked smile.

“Should you choose to accept it.” Dorian’s legs were around his waist again, heels digging into his lower back just a little. He grinned with his teeth.

“Was that a Tethras reference?” Bull couldn’t help it.

Dorian looked surprised, then delighted. He sat up quickly. “You’ve read the Champion series?” he demanded, face bright.

“Hasn’t everyone?” 

“You’d be surprised.” Dorian rolled his eyes with a little smirk. “Felix hates historical fiction. But he’s a stodgy old math professor in the body of an attractive young math professor, so what does he know.”

“Who’s Felix?” Bull ignored the sudden clench of anxiety in his gut.

He laughed. “My oldest friend, and my better half, though our differing taste in literature is an irreconcilable difference.”

Bull laughed weakly. Dorian was still looking at him. “Which is your favorite book?” Dorian asked, but then waved a hand in front of his face. “Wait, we were rather in the middle of something, weren’t we?” He looked up at Bull from under his eyelashes.

“I mean, if books is what gets you off…” 

Dorian laughed again, and Bull smiled back. His hands were still on Dorian’s thighs. “Hm, no. I think in this case I prefer something a little more concrete.” Dorian’s hands circled Bull’s wrists.

“What have you got in mind?” Bull dropped his voice, and leaned in towards Dorian to watch him bite his lip.

“Well, for one, I was thinking you should fuck me.” He plucked the bottle of lube from Bull’s fingers. “Give me your hand.” His tone was all business now. 

“You’re in charge again, are you?”

Dorian smirked. “I think you’ll find that I always am. Your hand, if you please.” Bull tightened his grip on Dorian’s leg instead. Dorian’s eyebrows climbed, and his eyes narrowed. “Sometime today, Bull.”

Bull raised one hand slowly, put it palm up on top of Dorian’s. His reward was a smile, sharp and bright. “Good.” Dorian’s fingers were strong, and he gripped Bull’s palm firmly despite the difference in size. Dominant was a good look on him. Bull didn’t try to pull away. He was happy to let Dorian use him however he wanted.

Dorian made a show of smearing the lube over Bull’s fingers, taking his time now that he was the one controlling the pace. He took one into his mouth, sucking and curling his tongue around the digit. “You know, it rather does taste like honey,” he said when he broke free again.

Bull made a small noise in response. 

Dorian smirked at him and tugged Bull’s hand down between his legs. Bull took his time, teasing fingers circling Dorian’s entrance before pressing in. Dorian leaned back on his elbows again, allowing Bull to do some of the work. Bull watched him catch his lower lip between his teeth, and listened to the muffled noises he made.

Dorian breathed through his nose as Bull worked him open, silent except for the soft noises he couldn’t help. Bull wasn’t sure whether he was unnerved or if he envied Dorian’s control. He could see Dorian’s throat moving, and leaned forward to kiss him. Dorian’s eyes fluttered open, looking almost alarmed. Bull paused, but after a moment Dorian closed the distance between them, pressing his mouth to Bull’s briefly before saying, “I believe I’m ready.” 

“Yeah,” Bull felt a bit distracted. “Yeah, sure.” He broke away long enough to put the condom on and ran a hand up Dorian’s thigh, unwilling to let go completely. Dorian shifted his hips, and leaned further back to allow Bull access.

He was quiet even when Bull started to fuck him. He closed his eyes and curled his fingers, smiled and tipped his head back as Bull pushed in, but he didn’t make a sound louder than a whimper. 

Bull kissed him again, messily, and groaned into Dorian’s mouth. Dorian didn’t tell him to quiet, just bent his legs a little, letting Bull press him down against the top of the desk. Bull angled further into him, lost himself a little in the feeling of Dorian under him.

“Harder,” Dorian hissed, and Bull complied. “I want to feel this tomorrow.” Something small toppled off the desk when Bull hit his knee against it by accident. They both ignored it, Dorian reaching up to grip Bull’s shoulders even as he wrapped his legs around Bull’s hips. 

Bull’s thrusts became shallower and faster, and Dorian dug his heels in as if to force Bull even closer. “Can I--” Bull made a vague gesture towards Dorian’s cock. Dorian nodded, his lip still wedged between his teeth. 

He pulled in a loud breath when Bull's fingers circled him, and when Bull stroked his cock in quick movements, more or less in time with his own rapid thrusts. They came in matching, breathless grunts, and Bull allowed himself a moment to rest his head against Dorian’s sweaty chest before he pulled out. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but Dorian’s fingers seemed reluctant to loosen on his shoulders. 

Dorian sat up slowly while Bull got rid of the condom and bent to grab the abandoned gym shorts off the floor. Dorian accepted them with a lazy grin. He looked surprised when Bull leaned in for a kiss, but let him linger for a second before planting a hand on his chest. He pushed Bull back a step and slid off the desk.

“Do you want to--” Bull asked, pulling up his pants.

“I’m good. You needn’t fuss over me.” Dorian was already out the door.

* * *

“Coffee for uh... Mr. The Iron Bull?” The barista’s perky voice faltered a bit as she read the name on the cup. 

“That’s me,” Bull said, but paused as he reached for it. “But this is not me. This is an iced espresso. I ordered a green tea frappe.” It was... a lot of iced espresso. Bull couldn’t even handle one iced espresso without getting jittery.

“Oh no!” The elf’s huge eyes widened further. “I’m so sorry, it’s my first day working this shift alone… I don’t know how I did that!”

“Hey, calm down,” Bull glanced at her nametag, “...Merrill. I’m not in a rush.” She looked extremely relieved.

“I’ll just go remake that for you then, Mr. ...Is your name really ‘The Iron Bull?’”

He chuckled. “It is. Google me sometime.” 

“It’s not porn, is it?” Merrill looked concerned, but that could just be her face. “I mean, I don’t mean any offense, but a name like The Iron Bull...?”

“I’m a ballerina,” he said, grinning. “Seriously.” 

“Really!” She looked delighted. She talked some more but Bull could only catch the occasional dance term over the sound of the blender, so he just tried to nod appropriately. 

She returned with his actual drink and glanced at the (quadruple?) espresso on the counter. “You can keep that one as well if you’d like. I can’t do anything else with it.” 

He eyed the cup warily, but it stirred a vague memory of Dorian arriving on an early morning at the gym, clutching a cup with similar contents. Fate, perhaps? If Koslun was trying to tell him something, well... he was a bit lapsed.

“Sure. Thanks, Merrill.” He grabbed it before he could change his mind. “Good luck on the rest of your shift.” She waved cheerfully as he left.

He sipped at his frappe while he drove the rest of the way to the studio. It wasn’t that weird that he was bringing Dorian coffee, was it? That was a thing that people did for their… someone they knew personally. This was fine.

Dorian looked surprised when Bull elbowed open the door to Ballbusters, a beverage in each hand, but he smiled nonetheless. 

“Morning,” Bull said, holding out the coffee. 

Dorian took it, raising one sculpted eyebrow. “If you’re hoping to get sex out of this, I’m afraid my schedule is booked up until well after noon. Otherwise it would have been quite effective.” 

Bull rolled his eyes, just a little. Maybe it had been weird. “I just wound up with an extra coffee this morning and thought you might like it. You don’t even have to do a strip tease for it, I swear.” 

Dorian chuckled and took a careful sip. “Is that so?” 

“I mean I’m not saying that I wouldn’t _enjoy_ a strip tease, but I’m worried we wouldn't finish before all the ice melted in both our coffees, and I have three year olds to do ‘ballet movement fun’ with in about thirty minutes.”

“Not the most compatible of activities,” Dorian agreed. He gestured to a neat stack of practice mats along the wall near the window. “Perhaps just the coffee for now, then?”

Bull took a seat on the mats and Dorian joined him. “Any of those yours?” Bull jerked a horn at the shelves of competitive martial arts trophies lining the walls near the ceiling.

Dorian let out a startled laugh. “No, er, not really.” He sipped his espresso, considering. “It’s not that I haven’t won any, it’s just... well, I’m rather afraid that I destroyed them all during a particularly unpleasant period of my life about a year ago.” 

Bull tried not to look fascinated. “Can I ask what happened?”

Dorian gave him a wry smirk. “I suppose it’s better you ask me than you go home and ask youtube.” He sighed before continuing. “I was nationally ranked in Tevinter’s MMA association until I… left.”

“Steroids?” That was the reason people usually “...left” professional sports in Bull’s experience. He couldn’t blame Dorian for it.

“Flagrant homosexuality. Drugs would have been far more acceptable.”

“Oh,” was all Bull could think to say. 

“Indeed.”

“Well, I was a member of the Qunari National Dance Corps until I got too old and they kicked me out of the country. I was also too critical of the Triumvirate for their taste, but y’know. It was totally the age thing.”

Dorian snorted. “The ones who only perform eight dances and they’re all propaganda about the glory of the Qun?”

“Hey, we were really good at those eight dances. Have you ever done pointe in jackbooks? It’s hard.” 

“Gives you nice legs, though,” Dorian murmured.

Bull laughed, feeling his shoulder brush against Dorian’s. “So tell me, how many of Tethras’s books have you read? I thought they were banned in Tevinter.”

* * *

Felix picked up on the first ring. Dorian never called from work.

“He brought coffee. To the _gym_ ,” Dorian hissed into the phone. 

“Was it fair trade?”

“I don’t know! He came into the gym and gave me coffee and then we talked.”

“You like coffee.” Felix’s undergrad assistant looked up from her phone with an interested expression. He’d complained to her about Dorian’s alarming caffeine intake once or twice perhaps.

“But how did _he_ know that?” 

“Everyone who’s ever spoken to you knows that, Dorian.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line.

“Dorian? You _have_ spoken to this man before, haven’t you?”

Dorian cleared his throat. “Well, I-- yes. We talked over coffee just this morning.” 

“Before that.” Felix’s assistant mercifully said nothing when he began methodically shredding the handouts she’d just printed for him.

“We’ve exchanged words.”

“How many of those words were something besides ‘come over here and fuck me?’”

His assistant dropped her stapler. 

“Well, none of them have been about coffee.” Dorian sounded distressed. “No one’s brought me coffee before, Felix. And certainly not at work. Is that a thing people do for one another here?”

Felix stacked his handout shreds into a neat pile and began tearing each one in half again. “It’s a thing people ought to do for you everywhere,” he said, and hung up the phone. 

“I’ll just go and print some more of those then,” his assistant mumbled and fled the room. 

Felix sighed.

* * *

“Mmm, we should put clothes back on.” Despite his words, Dorian seemed content to continue lounging naked and sweaty against Bull’s side. 

“What’s the rush?” Bull stroked idle patterns on Dorian’s skin. 

Dorian cocked his head up. “Well I hardly live alone, you know. And I don’t want Sera or Felix to walk in on their roommate and a naked stranger in their living room. Especially not Felix. He’d probably be too traumatized to ever sit on this couch again.”

“Point taken.” Bull tried, gently, to push Dorian off him. He didn’t budge. “I thought we were getting clothes back on.” 

“We will. In a moment.” Dorian buried his face into Bull’s side. 

“You know, if we go to your room, we don’t have to put clothes on. Since there’s a door and everything.”

“In theory,” Dorian mumbled, his face still hidden, “but it wouldn’t really work out. My room is...terribly messy, I’m afraid. I’m not sure a person like you would quite be able to handle it.” 

Bull snorted. “We’re outside because you’re a slob?” 

“I think the term ‘disaster’ is a bit more appropriate,” said Dorian dryly. “It’s the term of Felix’s preference, at any rate.”

Bull didn’t say what he thought of that. “Tell me about Felix,” he said instead. 

Dorian sat up enough to no longer be muffled, lying propped on an elbow on Bull’s thigh. “He’s an assistant math professor at Ameridan Tech. Theoretical and abstract and terribly smart. All his students are infatuated with him. Utterly without fashion sense. He left a much better job in Tevinter to be with me when I... well. When I came here.”

And Bull had just fucked Dorian on the guy’s living room couch. He’d knocked some of his massive theoretical math textbooks off his dining room table to fuck Dorian on that, too. “Sounds like a great guy.”

“He’s one of the kindest men I know. It’s a shame he can’t be around longer.”

“Is he going back to Tevinter or something?”

Dorian shook his head. “No. I’m afraid he’s dying. Not very quickly, and not very soon, but a lot sooner than the rest of us. He’ll be lucky to make it to forty.” 

Bull blew out a slow breath. “Shit. I’m sorry, Dorian.” 

“I try not to burden others with it. Felix has made a decision to live a good life, and we’ll all just have to content ourselves with the time he has.” Dorian got up then, and handed Bull his boxers. “We should perhaps try not to shorten his lifespan further by giving him a heart attack when he returns home.”

“Yeah.” Bull gathered the rest of his clothes and pulled them on hurriedly. This would be a terrible time for him to ask Dorian out to lunch. “I uh, I’ll see you around, okay?” 

“If you like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested, [ this site](http://www.contemporary-dance.org/graham-floor-work.html) has a video of a warm up routine similar to what Bull and Vivienne did in this chapter.


	3. THis is not a ‘Meltdown.’ It’s a normal opinion.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I am skeptical of the concept ‘too big to fail’ mainly because I am extremely big and fail constantly.”

“If you want to get dinner first sometimes,” Felix said, cautiously moving his tea mug from one side of his stack of midterms to the other, “why don’t you just ask to get dinner first sometimes?”

Dorian snorted. “You live in a dizzyingly simple world, my friend. Imagine,” he adopted a nasal, screeching tone. “The Iron Bull, why don’t we go out on a romantic date before you fuck me in a locker room? Iron Bull, why don’t you give up no strings attached sex with a professional athlete in favor of discussing what books I find most _stimulating?_ Next, you’re going to tell me to ask him why we don’t cuddle afterwards.” 

“You don’t cuddle after?” Sera stuck her head in from the kitchen. Felix had been simultaneously delighted and horrified to learn that Sera had learned to cook stunning Orlesian food while doing a stint in a Fereldan women’s prison. When questioned on the matter, Sera simply held up two fingers and said, “that’s not all I learned in there, either.” Felix had ultimately decided that it was best not to look a gift crepe in the mouth. 

Dorian rolled his eyes. “Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer to do my bed partners the service of leaving before they are forced to kick me out. I’m not a savage, after all.”

Sera rolled her eyes right back. “How d’you know they really want you to fuck off, then?”

“I’m a surprisingly clever man,” Dorian said dryly.

* * *

“Mister The Iron Bull,” Dirthara said as the kids filed into the studio. “What happened to your neck?”

Bull clapped a hand over the bruise Dorian had left. He’d really been hoping they wouldn’t notice it. They were tiny! How could she see that high?

They began to crowd around him, clammering to see what had happened. Bull desperately wished for the first time ever that he could find turtle-neck leotards in his size.

He searched frantically for an explanation. “My friend… is teaching me karate?” He offered. 

It was met with a resounding chorus of “cool!” and “can you teach us?”

“Come on guys, we’re here to learn ballet.” He’d tell Dorian to avoid his neck, next time.

* * *

Bull treasured his days off. They weren’t empty, he looked after his house and shopped for groceries and did paperwork for his little studio, but it was always nice to take a day to rest and just.. not dance for a little while.

He had a routine: coffee and stretching in the morning, so that he didn’t get stiff, then a little bit of gardening or cleaning. Sometimes he’d get lunch out with his boys, or make something small for himself and eat it on the porch.

The evenings were for his baths. Bull hadn’t survived a twenty-year career as a dancer by neglecting his body. His bathroom was a pretty impressive setup, for all that the rest of Bull’s house was unassuming and small. He’d spent quite a bit of time and money on it, and the crowning glory was the massive tub, taking up the better part of the lefthand wall.

He spent hours soaking in that tub. It had a little plastic pillow so he could lounge, and he did his paperwork on a tray while ensconced in bubbles and scented candles. 

The only imperfect thing was lately, his days off felt sort of lonely. Sometimes he’d reach for the phone and get halfway to calling Dorian and inviting him to dinner before he lost his nerve. He liked Dorian, but he didn’t want to mess up what they had just because he couldn’t take a hint about a guy not being into romantic entanglements. What they had was good. For the most part, what they had was enough.

* * *

It was almost ten thirty, and Dorian was at the front door of the studio. Bull hadn’t expected him to show up, since he’d already texted that he was working late. He hurried down the steps to unlock the door and let him in, because he wasn’t about to let an opportunity like this go to waste.

Dorian followed him quietly back up to the small space where Bull taught private lessons and did his own workouts when he had the time. The music was still playing, a solo from Swan Lake. Bull had been in enough repertoire companies to know the piece almost by heart, though for some reason he’d never been asked to dance the part of Odette.

Dorian unzipped his jacket and threw Bull a glance. “This song is familiar. Isn’t it Odette’s solo?”

Bull stared at him. “How’d you know that?”

Dorian looked away, focusing on taking off his shoes. Bull was touched that he remembered not to let them touch the floor. His studio was pristine and would stay that way. “Swan Lake is...ah, Felix’s favorite. We see it live when we can.”

Bull’s throat constricted. Felix. Of course. He turned the music off.

Dorian hung his jacket across the end of the barre. “Why’d you do that? It’s a rather nice song.”

Bull crossed the room and curled his hands around Dorian’s waist. “The sounds you make with my cock in you are nicer.”

Dorian laughed and tilted his head up towards Bull. “How vulgar.”

“Fuck, yeah. I love the little noises you make when you’ve got your mouth stretched around me.” It sounded a little hollow, somehow. 

Dorian’s eyes darkened and he licked his lips. “Is that what you want tonight?”

Bull looked down at him. He was wearing another one of those tight tank tops that showed off his arms so well, and there were lines on his hands that Bull had learned meant he’d taped them before stepping into the ring. He looked sweaty, like he’d just come from working out. Bull always marvelled at how much strength could be packed into one human. Dorian wasn’t even especially tall.

He knew, suddenly and bone-deep, what he wanted. “Actually, there’s something new I thought we could try.”

Dorian’s eyebrows rose, along with one corner of his mouth. He’d hear Bull out at least.

“I’d like to tie you up.”

Dorian blinked. Once. “As you wish.” 

“You’ve done this before?” Bull confirmed.

“Does that matter to you?” Accusatory. 

Bull put up his hands. “Just checking. Wanted to make sure you knew what you were getting into.”

“I do.” He sounded strange when he said it. 

“Right. I’ve got... I’ve got nothing but tights, actually. Does that work for you?”

Dorian laughed, some of the tension leaving him. “You mean you don’t stash bondage gear in your office?”

“I can start, if you’re interested.” 

“Just for me? I’m honored.” 

Bull shrugged and turned to his bag. He did have plenty of extra tights. And condoms, now, since Dorian was a fan of showing up unannounced.

Dorian leaned against the barre, arms crossed over his chest. “So, what does the Iron Bull have in mind? I must say I’m not enthralled by the idea of using your old tights as a gag.”

“No, I was thinking smaller than that.” Bull wrapped a pair of tights around his hand, then unwrapped them once more. Dorian’s eyes followed the movements. This was new ground between them. Bull stepped closer to him. “Just your hands?”

Dorian raised them without question, palms down and wrists crossed. Bull swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and wound the fabric gently between Dorian’s wrists, tying them off with just enough give to keep Dorian’s blood circulating. “Okay?”

Dorian flexed his arms and nodded. “What next?” He watched Bull’s face. 

“Hands on the barre.” It was the closest thing to an order he’d ever given Dorian, and for a moment Bull expected one of his furious glares. Dorian just turned and gripped the barre, meeting Bull’s eye in the mirror. Bull wrapped a second pair of tights over Dorian’s hands, tying them to the wood. Dorian watched the reflection of his face the whole time, barely blinking.

When he finished the last knot, Bull pressed his lips to the side of Dorian’s neck, making him shiver. It wasn’t more than a kiss, but Dorian’s eyes drifted closed and he sucked in a deep breath.

“You’ll stop if I say… Archon.” Dorian declared, eyes still closed.

“Alright.” Bull stood behind him and ran a hand up his back.

“And, unless I say it, you’ll fuck me as hard and as rough as you know I like it.” Dorian was imperious, even when his hands were tied in Bull’s stretchy pink tights.

“I think I’m in charge right now,” he growled, and gripped Dorian’s hips, reaching to unzip his jeans. “I’ll fuck you however I want to.”

Dorian looked at him over his shoulder. “Are you, now?” He rocked forward against Bull’s hand, already half-hard. “Prove it.”

Rip-stop nylon pants were perhaps not the most fashionable thing, but they came off quickly enough. Faster than the leotard he had to clamber out of under them, at least. Dorian, still mostly clothed, watched him in the mirror, his eyes oddly soft.

Bull pulled Dorian’s pants down further, around his knees, constricting him slightly. He stroked his fingers back up the insides of Dorian’s thighs, edging his legs as far apart as he was able. Dorian shivered and kept his head down, breathing deeply.

“Is this really alright?” Bull asked. Dorian’s shoulders looked tense.

“Yes.” Dorian’s fingers tightened on the barre. “I want this, Bull.”

“Okay.” Bull wondered if he could be true to his word, fuck Dorian any way he wanted. He rummaged in his bag again for the lube, slicked a finger and eased it in with excruciating gentleness. Dorian sucked in a breath that came out shaky and slow, dropping his head lower between his shoulders. Bull pressed slowly, in and out, watching Dorian’s trembling. Not much, not so that it would be noticeable to anyone not looking but Bull... Bull spent a lot of time looking. 

Dorian was quiet through the rest of prep, almost unnervingly so. The studio filled with his shaky breaths, their noise amplified by the mirrors and wood. Bull wished for anything, even the music of swan lake, to break the eerie silence. 

“Think you’re ready for me?” He asked, stroking the side of Dorian’s hip.

Dorian nodded, or Bull thought he did.

“Dorian,” he made his voice firm, to mask the nerves. Dorian had never done anything like submit to him before.

“Yes, Bull?” Doran lifted his head, meeting Bull’s gaze in the mirror. He looked as haughty as ever. “Feel free to proceed.”

Bull rolled on the condom, and stroked his cock a couple times with already slick fingers. He pushed into Dorian slowly, hands under his hips, supporting and constraining him in one movement. Dorian hunched his shoulders with a moan, rising up on his toes and pressing his arms straight against the barre.

Bull held him still until he relaxed. 

“I thought you were going to fuck me.” Bull wouldn’t have recognized the slight strain in Dorian’s voice if he hadn’t made a point of listening for it.

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” He rolled his hips slowly, enjoying his power. Dorian growled and tried to push back against him again.

“Well, no. Right now we appear to be having a chat while you stand there like a--”

Bull thrust into him with force. “Like a what, Dorian?”

“I’m just saying, if you have your cock in my ass, you should make the most of it. Not many men get the honor, you know.” His voice was remarkably even, though breathy, as Bull worked his hips steadily.

“I am making the most of it.” Bull ran a hand up Dorian’s back to grip at the back of his neck. Not hard, just enough to make Dorian’s fingers flex on the barre. It rattled. “I’m savoring my experience.”

“Savor with a bit more efficiency, if you please. I don’t particularly want to be here so long Felix starts to think you’ve kidnapped me. Awful temper, that man.” It had the shape of a joke, but was missing Dorian’s usual self-satisfied smirk.

As it usually did, whenever Felix came up. “So, have you told Felix you’re in love with him, then?” Bull kept his voice conversational as he bent over Dorian’s back. 

Dorian’s head snapped up and he met Bull’s eyes in the mirror. “No,” he said, voice strangled. “I can’t say that I have.”

“You should,” Bull told him. “He seems like a nice guy. You deserve a chance to be happy together.”

“Is now really the best time to discuss this?” His voice shook a little as he arched his back.

“Well, we don’t really have many other chances to talk....” Bull trailed off with an especially hard thrust. 

“Maybe that’s because I don’t actually want to discuss my love-life with my fuck buddy.” He ground back against Bull’s hips with a small gasp. “And, for your information, my affections do not lie with Felix Alexius.”

“You do have ‘affections,’ though?” He bit Dorian’s shoulder hard enough to leave a mark, and sucked at the spot. Dorian’s head tilted away, baring the side of his neck, and Bull worked his way up the cords of muscle, allowing himself only lips and tongue. “That’s nice.”

“It’s wonderful,” Dorian agreed. “Sublime. We went out on those paddle boats on the lake just last Tuesday. He packed a picnic and we drank champagne and held hands--oh, _fuck_ me.” 

Bull’s hands dug into Dorian’s hips. Were he a more pleasant person, he would have been careful not to leave visible bruises. 

Dorian dropped his head between his shoulders and gripped the barre.

“Is he a nice guy, then?”

“Tooth-rottingly sweet. Why else would I still be coming to you?”

Dorian shuddered and let out a bitten off moan when Bull began to fuck him more forcefully, then sucked in a breath. Bull’s hands clenched tighter and he roughened his pace. “Let me hear you, then,” he growled. “I want to hear every nasty little sound you’re afraid pretty boy won’t like coming out of your mouth.” Bull reached around, past Dorian’s bruised hip, and squeezed his cock, not gentle at all. Bull couldn’t find it in him to be gentle just then. He wanted it to hurt. Wanted to make him remember. 

“You’re not--” Dorian interrupted himself with what was unmistakably a whimper. 

“You can do better than that.” Bull moved his hands to the fronts of Dorian’s thighs, holding him as still as he could, and ground tight circles with his hips. Dorian groaned and rocked back against him. “Come on, Dorian. Let me hear you. You’re so good at telling me what you want, do you think you can beg?”

Bull slid out of him, and gripped the base of his cock. Dorian growled. “Vishante kaffas Bull, fuck me.”

“Ask me nicely.”

“Fuck you.”

“Would picnic boy like that sort of language?”

“ _Fuck you_.” Dorian glared at him in the mirror. “I’m not here for that. I’m here so you can fuck me.”

“And I will,” Bull set his hand on Dorian’s lower back, sliding it across his skin until his thumb pressed just above Dorian’s asshole. Dorian cursed at him in Tevene, voice tight. “All you need to do is ask.”

Dorian closed his eyes again, and Bull could see his throat working. “Come on, Dorian. Just tell me how much you want me.” 

He saw the fight go out of Dorian, his shoulders loosening, his breath lengthening. “Please, the Iron Bull,” He finally said, voice soft. “Please, I need you to fuck me.”

Bull smiled. “Very good,” he said. Dorian shuddered as Bull slipped back in, mouth open and back arched. “Now, _how_ do you need me to fuck you?”

“Hard,” Dorian breathed out. His eyes stayed closed. “I need you to fuck me so hard I can’t walk without thinking about you. I need to feel you, Bull. I need you,” He pulled in another breath. “I need you to fuck me until I come on your cock and I can’t think about anything else.”

“Shit, Dorian.” Bull knew his voice broke, and he swallowed hard. He pressed forward again, and Dorian gasped, bare feet slipping on the floor. “You’re good at that. How come we’ve never done this before?”

Dorian didn’t answer.

It would be rude to do anything except what Dorian asked for, so Bull slammed into him with a grunt, pulling a beautifully desperate noise out of Dorian in return. He put a hand back on Dorian’s cock, just barely circling it, but he jarred Dorian against him each time he moved his hips.

It was rough, and fast, and the barre rattled in time with their ragged breathing. Dorian groaned under him, then began to whimper each time Bull pushed into him, and he strained back towards Bull, pulling against the bindings on his hands. 

Bull leaned forward, moving one hand from Dorian’s hip to his chest, holding him steady. His lips found Dorian’s ear, and he growled filthy nothings to him, Dorian’s breath hitching, his mouth not quite forming words. Bull watched Dorian’s face in the mirror; his eyes were shut tight, but they fluttered open when Bull’s hand touched his cock again. 

Bull watched Dorian’s gaze move across their reflection, and reveled in the moan that slipped out of Dorian’s mouth as he stared at Bull’s hand on him, stroking hard. He looked back to Bull’s face, trapping him in his bright stare. Bull stared back, the open need in Dorian’s expression pulling hard at something inside him. 

He turned his face into the side of Dorian’s neck when it became too intense, sucking at the bruises he’d already left there.

Dorian came with a shout when Bull bit down on the back of his neck, spilling over Bull’s fingers onto the floor. Bull worked him through it, thrusting hard into him until he gasped and his head fell forward.

Bull spread his hand wide on Dorian’s chest to support him, softening his movements. Rough was one thing, but hurting Dorian was the last thing he wanted. Dorian whined when Bull slowed down. “Please don’t stop, Bull.” There was nothing commanding left in his voice. “Please, I don’t want you to stop.”

Bull kissed the marks he’d made on Dorian’s skin, pressing Dorian against him. He didn’t speed up again, just kept working his hips against Dorian, slow but forceful. He closed his eyes and breathed in Dorian’s scent, filling himself with the smell of Dorian soft and quiet beneath him. When he came, it was almost gentle, and he didn’t pull away until his legs started to ache.

* * *

Dorian shut the door so quietly Felix wouldn’t have known he came in had he not been facing that way. He looked like he’d gone eight rounds with Cassandra and then four with Sera’s Krav Maga class. Felix put down his tea while Dorian settled himself onto the couch, wincing a bit as he went. 

“I think--,” Dorian began after an interminable silence. “I think I’m in love with him.”

“Oh, Dorian,” Felix whispered. Dorian began to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Be Aware: This is a fanfic and does not conform strictly to the rules of reality. If/when you go out into the world and pursue your own bondage adventures, dear readers, please Do Not use stretchy materials like ballet tights unless everyone involved knows EXACTLY what they're doing. It's very Very easy to tie them incorrectly and cut off blood flow.
> 
> Really, you're better off not modeling your behavior on either of these nerds. We love them, but they're disasters.


	4. I WILL FACE GOD AND WALK BACKWARDS INTO HELL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I regret being tasked the emotional burden of maintaining the final bastion of morality and nice manners in this endless ocean of human shit”

Felix sat down on the couch and wrapped an arm gingerly around Dorian. He heaved a watery sob and turned his face into Felix’s shoulder.

His voice was shaky. “He hasn’t hurt me, Felix. He doesn’t.” He took a deep breath, and Felix could see a bruise on his shoulder. It looked like teeth. 

“You’ve said so four times,” Felix remarked in his best impression of mildly. “Every time you reassure me I become less convinced.” 

“I asked him to be rough with me,” Dorian followed Felix’s line of sight. “He does everything I ask him to.”

“Dorian, and I say this in the kindest way possible, what the fuck did you ask him to do to you?”

“Well, he tied me up, and then--” his cheeks darkened. “Do I really need to spell it out for you, Felix?”

“Not really. In fact, please don’t.” Felix pinched the bridge of his nose. “I thought you didn’t like being tied up, though. I remember you threw that blond guy through the door when he tried it. I remember it very clearly, since you threw him specifically through my door. The one on which I had paid a security deposit.”

Dorian flushed darker. “I apologized for that!” He cleared his throat. “Bull suggested we try it, and I wanted to. I wanted… to give him something, too. I do a lot of taking. It was... nice. Not having to direct everything for a while.” 

“You love directing everything, Dorian. You direct my clothes in the mornings.”

“Exactly.” Dorian sounded very bitter. “We talked about that, actually. Or, well, about you.”

“ _While_ you were fucking? Please, Dorian, tell me you did not discuss me with this man while on top of his cock.”

“He was apparently under the impression that I was in love with you. And technically he was on top this time.”

Felix groaned. 

“I set him straight.”

“Yes, because _that’s_ the part of this situation most in need of rectifying.”

“It doesn’t really matter, because the idea of an actual relationship with me has obviously never crossed his mind.” Another shaky breath. “He was the one who brought it up, I just corrected him.”

“So, you’re upset because…”

Dorian bit his lip. “Because he doesn’t want me back.” 

“Dorian…”

Sera burst into the apartment then, loud and dripping. “I had to run here, in the _pissing rain_ because the shite-piss busses--” she skidded to a halt in front of the couch. “What’s going on?”

Dorian sniffled, and her expression turned murderous.

“Who am I killing? Lucky, is it you? Am I going to have to kill you, Felix? Because I probably can, you all sickly and shite.”

Felix sighed and Dorian shook his head. “No, it’s not me.”

She pulled off her wet coat. “Tell me about it while we get drunk, then, yeah?”

That was a course of action that he could support. Felix went to the kitchen and pulled out the tequila.

Several hours and half the liquor cabinet later, Sera and Felix put Dorian to bed. He went with minimal complaining, muttering under his breath when Felix pulled the blankets over him. In the morning, he’d be annoyed about sleeping in his clothes, but Felix wasn’t about to try to undress him.

“Okay, Lucky, let’s go,” Sera said when Dorian began snoring.

“Where?” Felix asked. 

‘“T’ kill ‘im. Obviously.” Sera was swaying a little on her feet. “We can take ‘im.”

“You want to kill a seven foot something ballet teacher, and you’re asking a terminally ill math professor who needs an inhaler to be your accomplice?”

“‘Xactly,” Sera told him. “You’re goin’t’ die anyways, wa’s a few years’ matter?

“Well, I don’t want to die by driving into oncoming traffic, so we’re not going anywhere. We’re both too drunk.” He started a kettle for tea. “Besides, I am _not_ going to chance living through the encounter and being deported back to Tevinter. My parents would kill me before the justice system had a chance.”

“You think we should though.” Sera hauled herself up to sit on the counter. 

“I never said that.” People were putting true opinions in Felix’s mouth a lot, lately. 

“He made Dorian cry.” She kicked her heels angrily against the cabinets. “Dorian doesn’t cry.”

“Not usually.” Felix got out two mugs and his special stash of Tevinter breakfast blend, the strong stuff. “And it’s not going to happen again, at least not because of Bull.”

“You’re goin’t’ let me kill him?” Sera perked up.

“No, but Dorian said he wasn’t going to see him again. We’ll have to content ourselves with that.”

Sera shrugged. “If you change your mind, you can borrow my switchblade.”

* * *

He was pressed up against the side of his car, Dorian standing close, but not touching him. He’d practically run out the door when he got Dorian’s text.

“Where did I mark you last time?” Dorian was the only thing that didn’t sound far away.

“M-my thigh.” Bull stumbled over the words.

“And the time before that?” Dorian’s arms were folded, imperious. 

“My back, under the left shoulder blade.” He got the words out without stammering this time. 

“And did it hurt? When I marked you?” 

“Yes,” he whispered. 

“How much?”

“A lot.” Not like learning pointe, or the modern step routines that left his feet bruised and torn, but the same kind of ache, the same impulse. An urge for his body to remember. 

“But you want me to do it again.” 

He was so far away. Dorian was far away and Bull couldn’t breathe with wanting. “Yes.”

“Where?”

“My neck.”

Dorian blinked at him, too startled for a moment to remain impassive, but he didn’t ask why, and he didn’t ask again. He seized Bull’s head and jerked it back, tilting so that he could reach the center of Bull’s throat. Bull was grateful for it, as he was for the unsaid things. 

It was sharper this time than before, and Bull had a brief fantasy that Dorian had bitten into his throat and let it burst over his lips like a ripened peach. He felt a strange longing for it, a kind that terrified him. Dorian began to suck, darkening the bruise. He did it with a fervor that felt possessive. Like being owned. Like being--

Dorian pulled back from his throat with eyes darker than Bull could ever recall seeing them. “Get in the car,” he said. “You’re going to fuck me in the car.” 

Bull fumbled with the door handle, hands slipping until Dorian reached around him and opened it himself. He gestured imperiously to the back seat.

Bull clambered in, awkwardly shucking his jeans and boxers as he went. Dorian slid in as well, stripping off his shorts and straddling Bull’s lap. His hands were heavy against Bull’s chest, pressing him against the seat. He kissed Bull, then bent back to fumble in the back pocket of the passenger seat.

Bull admired the curve of his back, and held him steady as he popped open the bottle of lube. He wondered, briefly, whether Dorian would let Bull prepare him. Once, he’d let Bull finger him for hours, slow and sweet the way Bull liked. This time, he smeared lube on his own fingers, worked them in with his head back, making low noises between his breaths.

His neck still stung where Dorian had marked him, his hands gripped passively at Dorian’s hips and Bull watched as Dorian worked himself open, movements sharp. Dorian’s other hand curled on Bull’s hip, holding himself up. Bull was hard just watching, sitting there under Dorian. When Dorian leaned against him, grabbing Bull’s cock with his still-slick hand, Bull pressed his lips against the top of Dorian’s shoulder and dared to guide him down with one hand splayed on Dorian’s back.

Dorian allowed it. He curled in further, his face buried in the crook of Bull’s neck, and began to raise himself up and down. The pace he set was nothing but brutal efficiency right from the start, and Bull could do nothing but try to hold onto him. 

Dorian leaned back, his eyes closed and his head tilted up, his body constricting around Bull’s as he rode him. Bull couldn’t explain his thoughts in that moment, but suddenly his hands were moving, pulling down Dorian’s hips as he thrust up with all the force two and a half decades of intensive dance training had given him. Dorian’s eyes snapped open.

“Well do go on, then,” he said, and raised himself up once more. Permission given, Bull matched Dorian’s pace, Dorian bouncing on top in perfect synchronicity. 

Dorian’s eyes were boring into his, and Bull could feel every breath as it left his mouth. They were sweaty and confined, bumping into the ceiling and doors with every motion, but Bull couldn’t take his eyes from Dorian’s face. There was a tremendous roaring in his ears and his stomach jolted as though he were falling from a great height. And then he knew, knew with the same kind of certainty with which he trusted his own body. He had never imagined that he would feel like this. He couldn’t remember ever being so afraid. 

Dorian was still moving and Bull had to look away. If he saw his eyes and didn’t see--he wouldn’t see it, he knew. He had to look away. Dorian’s breaths were coming faster now, in time with Bull’s own. He couldn’t look away. Dorian’s eyes were open, his face menacing and beautiful and Bull had to believe he saw a flash of something there, just for a moment. Couldn’t stand if he’d imagined it.

Dorian came on Bull’s stomach and Bull all but shoved him off, grabbing his jeans and hastily muttering something about being late as he yanked them on and made a beeline for the studio. He was a mess when he left, bruised and covered in come and still painfully hard. He didn’t look back.

* * *

Felix was halfway through his second cup of tea when Dorian finally looked up from his phone.

“No. No, no, absolutely not.” He grabbed Felix’s shoulders and steered him out of the kitchen. “You are not going anywhere in this hideous getup.”

“Felix glanced down at his clothes. “It’s not that bad.”

Dorian made a pained noise. “Felix, darling brother. You are wearing a brown sweater vest over a yellow t-shirt. And _khakis_. I thought I burned all your khakis.”

“I bought another pair.” 

Dorian walked them into Felix’s room and opened his closet. He glanced from Felix to the clothes hanging in it a few times. “Wear this,” He shoved a button up at Felix, “and this,” a tie, “and… these,” a pair of black slacks. “The shoes can stay.”

“Dorian, I’m a math professor, not a model.” Felix obediently stripped off the perfectly comfortable clothes he’d been wearing. Dorian snatched them out of his hands with a look of distaste.

“Not with attitude, you won’t be.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t started laying out clothes for me like Mother did.”

“Don’t tempt me.” He looked Felix over, finally satisfied. “Isn’t that better? Now you’ll set all the undergrads’ hearts aflame.”

“I don’t actually _want_ to do that. They’re sort of creepy when they like me.”

“Nonsense.” Dorian led them back to the kitchen and poured coffee into a travel mug. “Come on, I’ll drive you to campus so you don’t have to fight swooning math majors to get a parking space.” He followed Dorian down the stairs and out the front door, not really listening as Dorian lectured him on the deplorable state of his wardrobe.

Felix climbed into the passenger seat and turned around to drop his bag on the back seat. Instead, he made a discovery.

“What,” he asked Dorian calmly, “are these.”

Dorian glanced over, and grabbed the pink boxers out of his hands, throwing them onto the floor in the back. “They appear to be some of the Iron Bull’s personal effects. I’ve been meaning to return them.” 

“Meaning to for how long? Because I was led to believe you’d stopped seeing him.” Felix took a slow sip of his tea. “At least a month ago.”

“For... a period of time. Since the last time I saw him, at least.”

“Which was… more than a month ago?”

“I can hardly be expected to remember minutiae such as the exact date, can I?” 

Felix’s eyes narrowed. “This week?” 

“No!” Dorian snapped. “Last week, perhaps… but I haven’t seen him since then.”

“And was that his decision or yours?”

Dorian deflated, all the fight going out of him. That was answer enough for Felix.

“You deserve better than this, Dorian.”

Dorian took a breath to respond, but Felix was already marching towards his own car.

* * *

Bull waved the last of his students off and locked the studio door behind him. It was nice to have an afternoon off every once in a while. He took out his phone, planning on calling Vivienne, or maybe Dorian. Someone tapped him on the upper back.

He turned around, and was faced with an unfamiliar man, dressed way too sharply for the part of town they were in. He stood next to a sleek sports car, and his expression was dark. “Are you the Iron Bull?” His accent was clipped and cultured, a lot like Dorian’s.

“Who’s asking?” Bull was gruff, because he didn’t actually enjoy it when strangers accosted him on the street.

“I’m Felix Alexius. Get in the car.”

* * *

Felix took him to Merrill’s Starbuck’s, and she greeted Bull cheerfully. “The usual?” she asked, and Bull nodded. “And, uh, whatever he’s having.” He jerked a horn at his kidnapper. 

“Earl Grey tea,” Felix said flatly. “Extra hot.” 

Merrill, bless her, looked at least a little bit concerned. Of course, it was possible that was just her face. They took a table to wait. Bull considered trying to start a conversation, but Felix just glared across the table, clearly uninterested.

When their drinks arrived, Felix and Bull stood and walked to the counter. Felix took both drinks in his pallid hands, turned, and deposited Bull’s directly in the garbage. They sat back down. 

Felix made no move to talk just yet. He took a long sip of his tea, staring Bull down the whole time. It was, actually, rather threatening. 

So far, Bull was having trouble seeing Felix as the compassionate type of person that Dorian described as his “better half.” 

“I’m terminally ill,” Felix said. 

“I know,” Bull told him. “I’m uh, I’m really sorry.” He wished Felix hadn’t thrown his drink out, just he had something to do with his hands.

“Dorian told you?” 

“Yeah. I hope that’s okay. He wasn’t trying to--” 

Felix held up a hand. “Did he also tell you why I chose to spend the last twenty-odd years of my life sharing an apartment in a Fereldan backwater?”

“No?”

“Because,” Felix said simply, “that’s where Dorian is.” 

“I see,” said Bull. 

Felix tilted his head, gray eyes appraising. “I’m not sure you do.”

“Explain it to me, then.” Bull tried not to scowl. 

“I am sitting in front of you, telling you that the only thing that matters to me--the only thing in the entire world--is the happiness of Dorian Pavus.” 

“Great,” Bull leaned back in his chair. “I care about Dorian’s happiness too.”

“Then why have you fucked it up?” 

“Me?” Bull raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure where you got the idea I have any influence on his feelings.”

“You’re using him,” Felix snapped. “You don’t care about his _feelings_ , don’t pretend like you do.”

“I’m not using him, I’m letting him use me.” Bull meant to snarl, but it came out as an admission. “He--” Bull let out a slow breath. If he couldn’t tell a murderous stranger, who could he tell? “I’m not _pretending_ to care about Dorian. I--” He stopped. 

“What?” Felix growled. “Love him? If you love him, why does he act like you’re keeping him a secret? He deserves better than someone who fucks him in the back of a car and then runs away.”

Bull winced. “I never meant for--you know what? It doesn’t matter what I meant.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Felix glared coldly at him. “Because what he’s interpreted your meaning as is that you’re ashamed of him. And what’s worse is that Dorian believes that you should be.”

“He shouldn’t,” Bull muttered. “He’s... I’d yell his name from the rooftops if he’d let me.”

Felix folded his arms. “Then why didn’t you say anything when he told you he was in love with you?”

Bull stared at him. “Excuse me,” he said calmly. “I have somewhere I need to go.” He left.


	5. The Absolute Good Truth Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sometimes i love to be able to want to be the man who is able to want to need to have his wants and needs able to be fulfilled sometimes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested additional viewing for this chapter:[ Martha Graham's _Appalachian Spring_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XmgaKGSxQVw). Really. It's an Experience.

Bull called Vivienne when he’d walked a few blocks, running over his conversation with Felix in his mind. She answered on the second ring.

“Is everything alright, dear?” she sounded a bit distracted, but he couldn’t hear anyone in the background. She was either at home or at the theatre, preparing for the show.

“Maybe.” He stopped at a crosswalk. “Ma’am, what do you think of Dorian?”

She made a considering noise. “The Tevinter who kicks people in the face? I really couldn’t say, seeing as I’ve never met the man. I have reason to believe my main source of information is biased, as well.”

“Yeah, I am.” The light changed. “But you’ve got your own opinion.”

“I do.” She sighed. “Truthfully, I think you’re putting more into your… arrangement than he is. It’s a habit of yours.”

“Can I ask your advice, Ma’am?”

“Will you follow it?” she asked.

“I value it.” He turned left, waited at another intersection. She made a “go on,” sort of noise. “What if, from his side of things, I seem like the asshole?”

“I’d be surprised,” she said cooly.

“But you’re biased, Ma’am. You only know my side. See, his friend Felix… came to talk to me. And even though you think I’ve been spilling my feelings everywhere, like Bastien says, Dorian somehow didn’t notice. Apparently,” Bull was just a few blocks from his car now, “I didn’t notice his either.”

“And now you’re in a flutter of requited feelings. Because his friend, what, warned you off?” 

“Dorian’s been through some crap. Some real shit,” Bull said. He’d never pried, the few times that Dorian mentioned Tevinter or his father, but he could recognize a painful scar. “I think it might not have occurred to him that something that started… the way we did, could have real potential, even if he wanted more.”

“My dear, are you sure you aren’t just seeing what you want to?”

“I need to ask him, at least. If he does want more.”

Vivienne was quiet on the other end, her thinking sort of quiet, not the angry sort. “It seems that you’re not really looking for advice, my dear.”

“Maybe not.” He turned the last corner. “I’m going to start by asking him on a date. Never actually done that yet.”

* * *

Thick shafts of sunlight drifted into the gym at five pm. It was Dorian’s favorite time to practice, Bull knew, because the light hit the mats under his bare feet, warming them. He was alone when Bull found him. Sera taught urban parkour in the afternoons, and Cassandra locked herself in her office to do paperwork. They’d be able to talk. They should, he knew, have talked much sooner.

The front of the building was empty, so Bull followed the music he could hear coming from one of the smaller spaces in the back. He didn’t register the melody until he opened the door and saw Dorian in the center of the room: Odette’s solo.

Dorian’s sleeveless shirt might have been the one he’d worn the first time Bull saw him, and he was practicing takedowns on a training mannequin. He would run at it and leap, using his weight and momentum to bear it all the way to the floor. Bull watched him land, knee on the imaginary assailant’s windpipe, waited for Dorian to catch sight of him when he stood again. 

When Dorian made eye contact, Bull jerked his head towards the neat stack of folding mats lying like a bench against the wall.

“So,” Bull said when they were sitting. “It was only ever me.” 

Dorian had his nose broken once, when he was younger. Maybe more than once. It had healed beautifully, but once Bull knew where to look it was easy to find the way it bent just slightly crooked. He looked ready to run. “Does it amuse you to know that?” 

Bull shrugged, his eyes fixed on the parking lot. “Only because I thought I was the only one tearing myself up over this.” 

Dorian worked to keep his eyes straight ahead, but the hand nearest Bull’s spasmed, reaching for something. “Fine. Yes. You’ve ruined me. Are you happy about it?” 

“I could be. In pretty short order, too.” 

For the first time since he sat down Dorian looked at him, eyes full of jagged glass. “I’m far too sore and far too tired to be toyed with any longer, Bull. I have a match to prepare for.” His hand was dug into the mat, like he didn’t trust it just laying around.

“I’m not toying with you, I’m--” the roaring in his ears, the jolt in his stomach like he was falling from a great height into a deep pool. 

“You’re...?” Dorian prompted.

“Would you think I was crazy,” Bull began, “if I said I was pretty sure I was in love with you?” 

“No,” said Dorian very quietly, “no, I wouldn’t think that at all.” 

“That’s good, ‘cause I’m saying it.” 

“That you’re in love with me?” 

“Yeah,” Bull said, and it felt like the world was opening up again. Odette’s solo ended, followed by a piano piece Bull didn’t recognize.

“Good,” said Dorian. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.” He took Bull’s hand.

Obviously, Bull’s phone chose that moment to go off with a sound effect best described as “sixteen violins simultaneously blowing their noses.” 

Dorian laughed. “I suppose that’s one way to kill a moment.” 

Bull turned his alarm off. “Shit. I’m really sorry. I’ve got call time across town in twenty minutes and if ma’am kills me for being late on opening night it’s not gonna do much good for anyone in our relationship.” He could have imagined the hitch in Dorian’s breath at the word _relationship,_ but he rather thought he hadn’t.

“Of course,” Dorian managed. “I won’t keep you.”

“You-- you could come watch if you wanted.” Bull resolved to let Dorian hear the hope in his voice. He wanted him to hear it every time from now on. “I know you said Felix was the ballet fan, but I thought maybe--”

“I lied.” Dorian cut him off. “Felix hates ballet. He falls asleep every time we go.”

“And you?” 

Dorian glanced away. “I’ve... developed an appreciation, as of late.”

Bull grinned. “So you’ll go?” 

“Of course. If you want me there.” 

“I do.” Bull kissed him.

* * *

He was going to see Bull perform. He felt unaccountably jittery at the idea, like the moments before an exhibition match. He felt a sudden urge to tape his hands in preparation. 

Dorian stood in line behind a pair of supremely enthusiastic college students, and shamelessly eavesdropped on their conversation. He didn’t have anything better to do to distract himself. They had some sort of issue with the choreographer, but gushed endlessly about one of the dancers, Madame de Fer. The name wasn’t familiar to Dorian, but when he looked her up on his phone, it was clear that she was the “Vivienne” Bull had sometimes mentioned. She looked stern, and Dorian wondered if Bull had ever talked to her about him. She might dislike Dorian as much as Felix disliked Bull. He guiltily realized that she'd be entirely correct, too. 

The line moved him forward to the ticket booth, and he got out his wallet. The man behind the counter paused just before he took Dorian’s money. “Are you the Dorian guy Bull’s been talking about?”

Dorian stared at him, utterly shocked, edging on mortified. “Ye-es?”

“You’re covered. Bull took care of it.” 

Dorian tipped over the edge of mortified, but it was accompanied by a warmth he was unaccustomed to. He thought of Bull taking the time, of a cup of coffee with no expectations.

“I’m Krem,” the ticketer said. His arms were muscular enough that even Dorian was a little intimidated. “Don’t fuck this up.” 

Dorian mumbled some sort of cross between “I won’t” and “thank you” before hurrying inside.

The theatre was dim, the curtain open on a sparse set that Dorian examined as the rest of the seats filled. A wooden fence stretched across the front of the stage, parallel to the edge. Behind it, a small pedestal and off to Dorian’s left was a structure that looked sort of like the wall and front porch of a tiny cabin. An awkward rocking chair sat under an abbreviated awning.

The crowd around him buzzed with excitement, and he buzzed with nervousness. He should think of something intelligent to say to Bull after the performance. He had no idea what sorts of compliments dancers appreciated. He couldn’t exactly say, “nice match,” and shake Bull’s hand.

Dorian flipped through his program. It appeared that Bull was performing in a leading role, opposite the head of the company herself, Vivienne de Fer. There was a narrative to follow, apparently. _The ballet tells a simple story,_ he read. _A young farm couple, portrayed by Mme. de Fer and Mr. The Iron Bull, ruminate on their lives before getting married and setting up house in the wilderness. An itinerant preacher, Mr. Varric Tethras, delivers a sermon to the congregation (rotating members of the company). An older pioneer woman, portrayed by Ms. Wynne Kinloch, oversees the events with sympathy and wisdom. The newlyweds muse on their future as night falls._

It seemed straightforward, and would last an hour and a half. That seemed short, but Dorian had no clear idea about what was normal for a “combination of modern dance and traditional ballet.”

He bounced his leg and waited for the show to start. Bull’s show. Bull, who was in love with him. Who loved him back. Who, and this seemed even less possible, actually _wanted_ Dorian to be there.

At precisely seven, a tall woman appeared, wearing what Dorian assumed was a pink dress under all the frills. It looked more suited to a production of _Oklahoma!_ than what Dorian typically thought of as a ballet performance. She still managed to look regal.

“Welcome, everyone,” she said into the immediate hush, “to the De Fer Dance Repertoire production of Martha Graham’s _Appalachian Spring._ ” There was thunderous applause. “There will be no intermission during this performance, and we request that no flash photography or cell phones be used. It’s terribly distracting and the ushers will be forced to remove you.”

Dorian made sure his phone was off and tucked away in a pocket. It didn’t sound at all like a joke.

The lights came up on the stage, and Dorian prepared himself for… something. He didn’t really know what.

The cast was small, and walked onstage one at a time, easy to identify. The preacher entered first, a stocky dwarf in a long coat and wide hat, who strode confidently to the small podium and struck a dramatic pose. He was followed by a stately woman with white hair and a red dress, who sat primly on the chair stage right.

Then Bull came on stage, and so did Vivienne and four other women, but Dorian wasn’t interested in them, not really. Bull was wearing a waistcoat, which was something Dorian had never expected to see. Something about the lighting, or his costume, or just his posture, made him seem softer than Dorian was used to.

He stood at the fence, looking calmly out into the audience as the women, aside from Vivienne, danced. They seemed to be praying? Perhaps they were miming farmwork or childhood. Dorian’s eyes kept straying to Bull, who stood like a pillar without even moving.

When Bull did start to move, Dorian felt like he should have been impressed, but honestly, he had no idea what Bull was supposed to be doing with his knees. This was modern dance, he told himself, not ballet. The handstand he was impressed by, and the high spinning jumps. With the other performers perfectly still around him, Bull was the unquestionable center of attention.

The preacher and the congregation were lively, to say the least. The dancer portraying the preacher was a dwarf, but he could jump as high as his mostly-human congregation’s heads, and did so repeatedly throughout his solo. Then there was some rolling, a bit of swooning, and a series of lifts Dorian really hadn’t thought a dwarf could pull off with partners easily two feet taller than he was. The two primary women came back, and did something that was no doubt both technically impressive and highly plot-relevant, but damned if Dorian knew what it was. Perhaps the older was her imparting maternal wisdom. That seemed feasible. Bull was standing stock still, leaning on a fence post and staring out at the audience--no, not quite--he was only looking at Dorian. There was nothing alarming about his gaze. Only the thought that he was looking at Dorian the exact same way that he always did.

The wedding scene itself was short and unadorned, and it made Dorian a bit more emotional than he had really expected. Bull’s solo after the wedding was joyful, and had movements Dorian was able to recognize as ballet inspired. The dance itself was extremely athletic, but also very ridiculous. Dorian loved it. He couldn’t recall ever seeing Bull look so happy before.

The preacher’s fire and brimstone sermon might have been Dorian’s favorite dance, though. He shuffled about on his knees, and crab walked across the stage, and leapt and twirled, while the four dancers that made up the congregation stood with his hat raised above their heads. It was honestly surreal. Dorian decided that perhaps he didn’t have the necessary theoretical background to understand the entire dance, but the athleticism was deeply impressive.

And Bull’s expressions through the dance were… Dorian recognized them. It was acting, of course, the role of a love-struck groom, but Dorian had seen them all before. All of them bright and hesitant and not at all pretend. All of them directed at him. He felt something unfurl in his chest, settle itself across the inside of his ribcage. The performance ended calmly and hopefully, Bull’s hand on Vivienne’s shoulder, the perfect image of a young family looking out across the stage.

After the show, Dorian discovered he was not Bull’s only fan. Dorian arrived at the stage door to find a teeming mass of small children already there, many of them draped on Bull like washing. Vivienne and an older man Dorian didn’t recognize looked on the chaos, smiling. She was holding the largest bouquet of lavender roses Dorian had ever seen, and if one grew up in Tevene professional sports that was saying something. Should Dorian have brought flowers? He should have. He wasn’t very good at this at all.

He watched Bull with the children. They clearly loved him. And why shouldn’t they? He was so-- so many things. 

Vivienne de Fer caught Dorian’s eye and approached. He stood his ground. 

“I suppose you must be Dorian.” She sounded much the same as she had before the show. “It’s a pleasure finally make your acquaintance.” She didn’t looked particularly pleased.

“Yours as well. Ma’am.” That was how Bull referred to her most often.

She turned to watch Bull with his students. “The Iron Bull is very dear to many of us in the Company,” she said conversationally. 

“I understand why,” Dorian kept his hands in his pockets. “I’ve-- I’ve never known anyone like him.”

“You’re unlikely to meet another,” Vivienne agreed. “He gives kindness and affection easily. Perhaps more easily than is wise.” The barbed politeness reminded him vividly of his youth.

“I agree.” 

She raised her eyebrows at him, surprised, but controlled. “And yet, here you are.”

“Here I am.”

They stood in silence for a moment. “I think we should talk, you and I,” she said. “Perhaps over tea next week.”

Dorian knew a veiled threat when he heard one. “I’d be delighted.” He understood her distrust entirely.

After a long assessing look, she returned to the man she’d been with, who smiled brilliantly and held out his hand. They left arm in arm, and Dorian turned back to Bull, heart pounding.

“I liked the part where you jumped in circles!” a tiny elf proclaimed, tugging on the edge of Bull’s shirt.

“I liked the hat man. He was funny. You should have been more funny,” a tiny Qunari criticized while attempting to pull herself onto Bull’s horns.

“Can you teach us to carry people like that? It looked really awesome.”

Bull grinned when he caught Dorian’s eye, standing and shedding children as he did. “Kids, this is my friend Dorian.”

“Is he the friend who’s teaching you karate?” the elf asked.

“As a matter of fact he is.”

She regarded Dorian severely. “You should be more careful with Mister The Iron Bull. You keep bruising him on his neck.” 

Dorian almost choked to death on his own tongue. “I--ah, I will endeavour to be more careful with him in the future,” he told her seriously. She nodded, appeased.

Mercifully, the children’s parents intervened, extracting Bull’s fan club and bidding them both good night with only a minimum of amused sidelong glances. 

“You… dance very well,” Dorian said lamely.

Bull laughed. “You didn’t really get it, huh?” 

“No, I did enjoy it. You looked happy.”

Bull laughed, and he looked happy then, too. “I’m glad you came anyway.”

“Me too,” Dorian felt inexplicably shy.

Bull smiled at him. “Come back to my place.” He spoke loudly, jovially, and Dorian wondered how he ever could have thought a man like that ashamed. “You can congratulate me on my successful opening night.”

“I’d love to,” said Dorian.

* * *

Dorian followed Bull quietly up the front steps, looking around at his tiny front yard and the planters of flowers on the porch. “I’m not really sure what I expected your home to be like,” he said as Bull unlocked the front door. “This seems fitting.”

Bull chuckled and led him inside, flicking on the light and pulling off his jacket. He hung it up and took Dorian’s, too, and for some reason the image stopped him, just for a moment. He smoothed the lapels down, if only just to feel his hanger underneath. He shut the closet door. 

Dorian stood by the closed door, looking a little unsure of himself. Bull tugged off his boots and dropped them in the small pile of shoes by the closet, turning a few more lights on as he walked further into the house. “Do you want something to drink?” He asked Dorian, who hadn’t moved yet. “I’ve got wine, tea, uh… some other stuff.”

Dorian toed off his shoes, placing them neatly next to the pile. Then, with a furtive, almost rebellious look, he gathered them up once more and dropped them on top, shining and obvious among Bull’s ballet flats and muddy garden boots. Bull smiled, a delicate, half-crooked thing. 

Dorian followed him to the kitchen, where he opened Bull’s fridge commandingly. “What’s _this_?” He asked, holding up one of Bull’s smoothies with a concerned expression.

“Protein shake.” Bull stood close behind him.

Dorian frowned. “No. This is not a protein shake. This is vile. Did you just stick spinach and chia seeds in a blender? I’m going to teach you how to make a proper protein shake. I've been entirely remiss in my duties. You deserve better drinks.” It sounded like an apology. 

“Right now?” That hadn’t been exactly what Bull had been planning on.

Dorian glanced up, and a slow smile curled at the edges of his mouth. “Well, I suppose it could wait, if you had something else in mind.”

Bull took the shake out of Dorian’s hand and closed the refrigerator. “I’ve always kind of wanted to take care of you.” He had meant it to come out casually, but the words stuck at his throat. 

Dorian turned to face him, and Bull pressed him against the door of the fridge. One of Dorian’s hands curled around the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. “I want--” Dorian cleared his throat. “Tell me again,” he asked. Begged, really. “Please.”

He leaned down and pressed his face against Dorian’s neck, felt him shiver and kissed at the skin just below his ear. “I love you,” Bull whispered.

Dorian kissed him, too softly. His hand on Bull’s arm was too gentle, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed this. His grip tightened suddenly, and he pulled away to look at Bull with an expression somewhere between fierce and terrified. “Again.”

Bull brought his free hand up to Dorian’s face, cupping his jaw carefully, brushing his thumb over Dorian’s cheekbones. Dorian’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and he sucked in a shaky breath. Bull brushed another kiss over his lips, just as gentle as Dorian had been. He felt like his hands should be shaking, like his heart ought to jump out of his chest, but Dorian was staring at him and Bull had never been more sure of anything in his life. “I love you,” he said, and his voice echoed off the tiled floor.

Dorian looked like he might be starting to believe it. “Take me to bed?” He asked softly. Bull tried to remember if Dorian had ever done anything softly before today. 

“Sure,” he was gentle, scooping him up. Dorian felt right in his arms, one hand looped around his neck. “Unless you want a bath first?” 

“With you? I only ask because you reek.” 

Bull snorted. He was perhaps a little sweaty, post-performance. Or a lot. “Sure, kill the romance of the moment, then.” 

“Is that a yes?” Dorian didn’t bother to quash the note of hope in his voice, and Bull considered that a victory won. 

“Yeah,” he said, and kissed Dorian’s temple. 

Bull relished Dorian’s look of awe when he pushed open the bathroom door. “This is ridiculous.” Dorian stared at the bathtub. 

“You love it,” Bull said.

“I love _you,_ ” Dorian told him. 

Bull blinked. “That so?” 

“Perhaps,” Dorian nodded and settled further into his arms. Bull bent to kiss him and then set him down to start the water running. The tub took a long time to fill, so Bull spent it undressing Dorian, slowly, with plenty of pauses to press kisses to each bit of newly revealed skin.

He moved down Dorian’s body, pulling off his shirt and unbuttoning his pants. He slid them down Dorian’s legs, and knelt to steady him as they came off. He kissed Dorian’s hipbone, the finely wrought muscle there, and stroked his hands down Dorian’s thighs.

Dorian, for his part, allowed himself to be cherished, accepted Bull on his knees before him as if it were his due. He ran his hands over Bull’s horns and down the base of his skull, and Bull listened to each shaky breath, loud to his ears even over the running water. 

“I didn’t know until that day in your studio, the first time you tied me up. I knew I wanted you to do it, which I don’t, often. I prefer being in control, you know.”

Bull kissed the line of his hip. “I know.”

“But I trusted you.” His fingers tensed, like confessing to trust was harder than confessing to love. “I made up that stupid story because I would have told you then. I was afraid I’d scare you off.”

Bull look up at him. Dorian’s hands were restless on his horns and he didn’t meet Bull’s eye. Bull remembered that afternoon. He’d thought it was just a new thing for them to do, just meant that Dorian trusted him a little more-- the way Dorian behaved hadn’t really changed in the month or so since. He never asked for anything outside of sex, never tried to shift the rules of what they were doing.

Instead of asking _why_ Dorian hadn’t said anything, he asked: “You didn’t really go to the park then? No champagne, no paddle boats?”

Dorian frowned. “No, of course not. No one’s--”

“Good. I think it’s a great idea and I was pretty miffed that I wasn’t the one who got to do that with you.” He smiled at Dorian’s incredulous face.

“You’re impossible,” he sighed, then bit his lip and watched as Bull broke away to fold his clothes in a neat pile. “Meanwhile, I-- I haven’t really behaved like the sort of person one ought to fall in love with. I'm sorry.”

Bull shrugged. “I’m not really an ‘ought to’ kind of person. It got me into a lot of trouble when I was younger.” 

“And now?” 

Bull grinned. “I love trouble,” he said.

“You love _me_ ,” Dorian corrected hesitantly.

“I do.” He hadn’t realized what a relief it would be to say it. He felt like telling him over and over. The water reached the top of the tub. 

Dorian turned off the tap and dipped his fingers in. He smiled at Bull. “Ready?” 

Bull scooped him up again, laughing when Dorian yelped and grabbed at his neck. He planted a kiss on his nose and bent over the tub.

“Don’t you dare!”

Bull dropped him. Dorian emerged, after a great deal of dramatic splashing, and pushed his hair out of his face to glower at Bull before splashing him in retaliation. 

Bull was fairly agile, but not fast enough to avoid being soaked. He pulled off his shirt without hesitation. It would probably do more good soaking up the mess on the floor. “It’s not like I’m gonna need it anyway,” he told Dorian. 

Dorian leaned on the edge of the tub and watched with a small smile as Bull pulled off the rest of his clothes and slid into the water. Bull stretched his legs out with a sigh. His thighs and ass were starting to ache.

Dorian arranged himself in Bull’s lap in order to kiss him, pressing close and wrapping his arms around Bull’s neck. He sighed against Bull’s lips when Bull ran his hands down Dorian’s back, holding him steady at his hips. 

“So I’m forgiven, then?” Bull asked, smirking. 

Dorian rolled his eyes. “I suppose that if I’m putting up with you long term, I’ll have to get used to forgiving you.” He pressed a kiss to Bull’s nose, and then another to his lips. 

“Think you can manage it?”

Dorian smacked Bull wetly in the chest. “I forgave you for thinking I was in love with Felix.”

“In my defense, you do bring him up a lot while we’re naked.”

“In mine, we’re naked quite a large percentage of the time.”

“Here’s an idea, then,” Bull leaned forwards to whisper into Dorian’s ear. “Tomorrow, why don’t I take you out to dinner. Clothes on and everything. And you can tell me all about Felix. And… everything else.” He wanted to know everything about Dorian. There was a lot of ground they needed to cover.

“‘Everything else’ might take more than one dinner,” Dorian commented.

“I guess I’ll have lots of chances to show you off, then.” 

Dorian flushed and looked away briefly, down at his hands against Bull’s chest. “Naturally.”

Bull brushed a thumb along Dorian’s cheek. “Naturally,” he agreed. “I want everybody to know how lucky I am.”

“I--” Dorian’s hand tightened against Bull’s sternum. “Will you just wash me or whatever depraved thing you plan on doing so that we can fuck?” 

Bull snorted, but acquiesced. He grabbed the bottle of shower gel off from its little shelf and squeezed some into his hand. Dorian watched him, rubbing small circles on Bull’s chest with his thumbs. There was something thrilling about the way Dorian began to smell like him, just a little. 

Dorian closed his eyes and leaned into Bull’s hands, and allowed Bull to tend to him. Bull kissed him when he leaned forward to scrub his back, pulling their bodies together. Dorian’s hands slipped under the water and down Bull’s waist, gripping at him and moving their hips together in small, teasing movements. 

“Eager,” Bull commented with a chuckle.

Dorian met his eye. “Can you blame me?” his voice was low and soft, unusually earnest. “You were beautiful tonight. I’m just-- I do love you, Bull.” He tucked his face into the side of Bull’s neck then, and was still for a breath.

Bull let him hide, and ran his hands up Dorian’s back again.

Dorian ‘s teeth came back after a moment, and the hickey he began sucking onto Bull’s neck actually slowing things down a bit, it was so distracting. 

“I’m gonna have to make up more karate moves you taught me to cover for that, you know.” 

Dorian laughed and dug his fingers into Bull’s ass. It felt pretty great, but it really wasn’t helping with the overall goal. “Maybe you should try some moves on me next time.” 

Bull smiled. “If you like.” He rinsed the last of the soap off of them, and turned his entire attention back to kissing Dorian, cradling his head in one hand and trailing the other down his chest.

“I do,” Dorian said. “And I’d like it even better if it were in your bed.” 

Bull liked the sound of Dorian in his bed. He said as much as he and Dorian climbed out of the bath. He was surprised by the shy look it drew, surprised again by his own reaction to Dorian’s small smile. 

Dorian was hesitant, toweling himself off with slow motions and a lot of sidelong glances at Bull. 

“You know I’ve seen you naked before, right?” Bull said.

“I know,” Dorian muttered, “but it’s...it’s just...”

“It’s different,” Bull agreed, “I know.” He wrapped his arms around Dorian. “You’re gorgeous,” he said, “and I’d still love you if you weren’t.” 

Dorian snorted, but held on to Bull tightly. “Inconceivable.”

“Come on,” Bull pulled him towards the door. “Bed.”

Dorian leapt rather aggressively into Bull’s arms and allowed himself to be carried into the bedroom. Bull threw him down on the sheets and began kissing every inch of him. Dorian laughed breathlessly as Bull worked his way up his body. It was a little funny, he supposed, but he’d never gotten the chance before. Dorian’s hands curled around his horns and pulled him in when he reached his mouth, smiling into the kiss. 

They kept kissing--just kissing--until Bull’s lips tingled and he thought they might chap, Finally, Dorian broke away, looking at him with soft eyes. When he spoke, his voice was soft but commanding. “Now, Bull, you should fuck me before I get bored and take care of myself.”

Bull smirked. “You’d never get bored,” he said, and obliged. He took his time opening Dorian up, making sure each additional finger slid as easily as the first. Dorian gave a dreamy sort of sigh, letting Bull care for him. He kept his lips on Dorian through it all, biting small marks across his chest and hips. Looking at Dorian, eyes closed and fists curled in Bull’s sheets, he felt like he was looking at something rare. He moved his fingers inside Dorian just to watch him react, just to hear him breathe Bull’s name. Entering Dorian felt like finally coming home. 

The sex itself was still rough. That hadn’t changed, and Bull sort of hoped it never would. Dorian raked possessive fingernails along Bull’s back, and while the red furrows would surely stretch the believable limits of being “taught karate” Bull couldn’t find it in him to give a damn. “Again. Please,” he said hoarsely, thrusting into Dorian for all he was worth. 

Dorian sank his teeth into Bull’s ear instead, and Bull let out a low moan. Dorian chuckled. “It’s fantastic, the way you need me.”

“I do,” Bull felt Dorian’s teeth scrape down the side of his neck. It felt like fire.

“Mine,” Dorian whispered, sucking a bruise just above Bull’s collarbone, fingers hard on Bull’s shoulders, nails digging into his skin with each thrust. He moved demandingly under Bull. “You’re mine.”

“Yours,” Bull rasped. He didn’t have a doubt in his mind. In fact, in that moment, he had very few thoughts in his mind at all.

Dorian pulled himself up to meet Bull’s thrusts. “That’s right,” he crooned as Bull bent over him, horns pressing into the mattress. “You’re so good to me, Bull. The first time you fucked me I knew I wanted to keep you for myself.” 

“I love you,” Bull told him again. He’d tell him as many times as Dorian wanted to hear it. Dorian laughed and pulled him into a demanding kiss.

Dorian’s body felt hot against his. Every point of contact was on fire. He pressed down against Dorian: hands, hips, mouth. Dorian’s lips formed the words back to him. It was overwhelming. It was everything. 

Dorian moaned as Bull rocked into him just a little too hard, and the noise almost tipped Bull over the edge. “Bull,” Dorian groaned, and Bull gripped him harder.

“Shit, Dorian.” He pressed his teeth into Dorian’s shoulder. “I need-- I need to make you come.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Dorian said, grabbing Bull around the chest and flipping them both. Bull wound up breathless, but miraculously still inside of Dorian, beneath him. Dorian’s hands slipped from his shoulders down the length of his body. He rolled his hips and grinned down at Bull.

Bull could do nothing but let out a breathy grunt in response. “No touching,” Dorian murmured, mischievous. He trailed his fingers up his own chest, putting on a show. Bull stared, unabashed, and Dorian’s smirk softened. He bit his lip and arched his back, hands on Bull’s thighs, and began to fuck himself on Bull with slow, deep movements. Bull’s hands fisted at his sides with every little noise he made.

“No touching at all?” Bull’s voice sounded desperate even to himself. 

Dorian brushed Bull’s face with a gentle hand. “Maybe a little touching.” 

The only place Bull could really reach without changing position was Dorians thighs, so he settled for stroking them up and down, marvelling at the power coiled tight near his bones. Braced over him, Dorian held onto his wrists. “Fuck me,” Dorian said, and Bull thrust up into him, watching Dorian start to come apart above him. 

“I want you to come all over me,” Bull told him. 

Dorian smiled. “Always full of surprises.” Dorian’s fingers curled around his dick, his head tipped back and he sighed Bull’s name. Bull was never going to get tired of that. He moaned as Dorian came across his belly and chest. 

Dorian rolled his hips. “Come for me,” he demanded. Bull obeyed, clinging to him. 

Dorian collapsed onto Bull, and Bull held him, feeling him shake. He curled closer, not seeming to mind the mess they had made, and settled into Bull’s arms, his head over his heart. “I’d like to stay here for a while, if that’s alright.” Dorian’s face was pressed into Bull’s chest, the words muffled and hesitant. He’d never stuck around long, before. Bull had always assumed he simply didn’t want to.

He carded a hand through Dorian’s hair, soft. “As long as you want.”

Dorian’s finger traced Bull’s chest. “That might be an awfully long time.”

“I’m counting on it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a wild ride but we want to thank you all for reading.
> 
> The art embedded is by the wonderful Paintbrunch. Check out their tumblr if you have the chance! [ poor-fangarts](http://poor-fangarts.tumblr.com) also drew these amazing pictures of [ Bull dancing](http://poor-fangarts.tumblr.com/post/157595483458/porfessional-danceriron-bull-from-this-fic-here) and [ Dorian kicking ass!!!!!!](http://poor-fangarts.tumblr.com/post/157595443023/mma-fighter-dorian-from-this-fic-here-by)

**Author's Note:**

> Say hi to U at [Eugenideswalksintoabar](http://eugenideswalksintoabar.tumblr.com) and A at [Acheesecakewrites](http://acheesecakewrites.tumblr.com)


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